...letters i've written/ never meaning to send...
Dear Everyone Who Is Hounding Me About Unimportant Shit:
(Yes, dear aunties, this includes you.)
I am:
a) nine months pregnant, with all the physical exhaustion and discomfort that entails.
b) dealing with all the last-minute planning and details that are part of being nine months pregnant.
c) two days and counting of being the last one out of the office after a twelve-hour work day.
I'm sorry that I haven't met whatever expectations you have for proper behavior or things you think I ought to be doing or spending money on right now. But frankly, I have no more fucks to give. There are only so many days in a row I can put off things like buying groceries or washing my clothes or (not that this is important) calling my health insurance provider to find out how exactly to add my future child to our insurance plan if he is without a Social Security Number. (Thank you, U.S. legislature, for making my life just that teensie bit more complicated.)
So yes, I'm sorry that I didn't hand-wash my glass when the break room dish washer was running last night. I'm sorry I haven't yet written and mailed thank-you cards for all the gifts I got at my baby shower three weeks ago. I'm sorry I'm not dressed up to your standards because my size-too-big flip flops are the only shoes I own that still fit my feet. I'm sorry for whatever other things I have done or not done that may offend your sensibilities.
Go build a bridge and get the fuck over it.
Sincerely,
~J
(Yes, dear aunties, this includes you.)
I am:
a) nine months pregnant, with all the physical exhaustion and discomfort that entails.
b) dealing with all the last-minute planning and details that are part of being nine months pregnant.
c) two days and counting of being the last one out of the office after a twelve-hour work day.
I'm sorry that I haven't met whatever expectations you have for proper behavior or things you think I ought to be doing or spending money on right now. But frankly, I have no more fucks to give. There are only so many days in a row I can put off things like buying groceries or washing my clothes or (not that this is important) calling my health insurance provider to find out how exactly to add my future child to our insurance plan if he is without a Social Security Number. (Thank you, U.S. legislature, for making my life just that teensie bit more complicated.)
So yes, I'm sorry that I didn't hand-wash my glass when the break room dish washer was running last night. I'm sorry I haven't yet written and mailed thank-you cards for all the gifts I got at my baby shower three weeks ago. I'm sorry I'm not dressed up to your standards because my size-too-big flip flops are the only shoes I own that still fit my feet. I'm sorry for whatever other things I have done or not done that may offend your sensibilities.
Go build a bridge and get the fuck over it.
Sincerely,
~J