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Day 50: Angry letters

“Write an angry letter,” Mr. December says every time someone complains about something petty; it’s a nicer way of saying, “Tell someone who cares.”

A lot of petty things seem to be bothering me today. It’s probably because R couldn’t fall asleep last night unless I was right next to her, and every time I tried leaving her bed for my own she started to wail. It was 1:30 a.m. before I made it back to my bed; and as wonderful as my husband and children are about letting me sleep in, I still wake up when I hear their voices.

Complaining without problem solving is not particularly constructive, so I’ve decided to write a few angry letters instead of just griping. I hope you enjoy them.

Dear Children,

Today’s dinner is hamburgers. Unfortunately, due to the fact that you couldn’t just eat bagels or sliced bread instead, there are now only three buns left. Your father and I will be eating two of the buns since we haven’t had ours yet. If you complain about having to eat open-faced or bunless burgers, I will gladly feed yours to the squirrels.


ps: Next time you see something in the pantry that we don’t usually buy, please ask us if it was bought for a specific purpose before you eat all of it. Thx.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. It’s been many years now since I’ve considered gas-powered mowers to be both air pollution and noise pollution. Sadly, most gardeners and lawn services don’t use electric or cordless electric tools. Some of them do have the decency to work while other people are (or used to be) out of the house at work or school; others, however, do not.

Dear Lawn-care Guy,

I’ve noticed that your regular maintenance of my neighbours’ lawn takes place on Sunday afternoons from 4:30 to 6:30 p.m. I’m unsure if you’re aware, but Sundays from 4:30 to 6:30 p.m. are prime barbecue hours. In addition, while I admire your work ethic and high standards, I still cannot imagine why it takes you two hours to mow and trim a 35 by 80 foot patch of grass.

Your lawnmower, trimmer, and blower are the loudest yard tools I have ever heard — and I’ve vacationed next to a golf course that was mowed three times a week. The fumes from your tools are so noxious that we can’t use our backyard while you are working next door. Did you know that there are some excellent cordless yard tools available now that are both powerful AND quiet? Perhaps you could buy some. I’m sure you can make up the cost somewhere between the savings on gas and the exorbitant prices that drove me away from your service in the first place.

The person giving you a death stare from my porch every Sunday at 4:35 p.m.

And the last angry letter of the day:

Dear Husband,

I am writing about how you ruined my blog post for today. I was writing angry letters and had only written two when you called me outside for a burger. Then you started the campfire… and brought out marshmallows and chocolate and graham crackers… and handed me my guitar.

By the time I got back to my computer to finish my post, I wasn’t angry anymore. My snarky attitude is gone and I just feel mellow. Why must you sabotage me at every turn?

In future, please consider my blog’s readers before you attempt to change my mood. Believe me when I tell you that anger and snark is way funnier than happiness.

Thanks in advance for your cooperation.
Your Wife

Okay, fine. The sight of the kids having so much fun together might have had something to do with my attitude adjustment.

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