"complaint"
Dear Mr & Mrs Hodes
We've lived here since 1967 & I believe you've lived over us for a good deal of that time.
I have to make you aware of a situation which I hope you will be able to help us with.
We have a housekeeper who lives with us who, a few months ago had to have a cancerous lump removed from her breast. Unfortunately, another one was discovered & she has to have another operation & possible radiation.
Recently, as she sleeps under your kitchen, she has been kept awake from sounds like furniture being moved as late as 11:30 P.M.
You understand that she must have as much rest as possible - so I would appreciate your controlling whatever is going on in the kitchen late in the evening.
My wife and I are much older than you (I'm sure) and we're very dependent on her well being. We will be nursing her after her treatment so her resting will be even more important.
In all these years, this is the first "complaint" we've registered and I hope you understand the unusual reasons for making it.
Cordially,
Victor E_____
•••
Dear Mr and Mrs E_____,
First of all, let me extend my and my family's condolences upon learning of your housekeeper's illness. Her story, I must admit, resonated heavily with all of us. We understand cancer's stresses upon its victim's loved ones, but we take heart to hear that treatment and rest will improve her condition. If we can offer any help or support beyond our quiet and our prayers, please let us know.
Second, while your housekeeper's well-being concerns me deeply, I fear the noise she hears may surpass our control. A few months ago, traffic in and out of our kitchen in the middle of the night was frequent, as our apartment hosted a staff of hospice nurses, for whom we needed to prepare meals as they kept their vigil; but rest assured that their presence is no more. These nights, my mother and I only enter the kitchen to brew tea when our worries have kept us up late. While we should be glad to stay out of that room if it affords your housekeeper any comfort, I confess that the loudest noises originating there between nine and midnight are the teapot's whistle and the motion of a wooden stool across the floor.
Third, having read your salutation, I thought I should let you know that this apartment's occupancy has changed. Only my mother, whom I returned home from college to look after, and I reside here. My father, Robert Hodes, died early in January, after the cancer in his kidney metastasized past medicine's powers of containment. He was eighty-three.
Empathetically,
James Mendez Hodes
We've lived here since 1967 & I believe you've lived over us for a good deal of that time.
I have to make you aware of a situation which I hope you will be able to help us with.
We have a housekeeper who lives with us who, a few months ago had to have a cancerous lump removed from her breast. Unfortunately, another one was discovered & she has to have another operation & possible radiation.
Recently, as she sleeps under your kitchen, she has been kept awake from sounds like furniture being moved as late as 11:30 P.M.
You understand that she must have as much rest as possible - so I would appreciate your controlling whatever is going on in the kitchen late in the evening.
My wife and I are much older than you (I'm sure) and we're very dependent on her well being. We will be nursing her after her treatment so her resting will be even more important.
In all these years, this is the first "complaint" we've registered and I hope you understand the unusual reasons for making it.
Cordially,
Victor E_____
•••
Dear Mr and Mrs E_____,
First of all, let me extend my and my family's condolences upon learning of your housekeeper's illness. Her story, I must admit, resonated heavily with all of us. We understand cancer's stresses upon its victim's loved ones, but we take heart to hear that treatment and rest will improve her condition. If we can offer any help or support beyond our quiet and our prayers, please let us know.
Second, while your housekeeper's well-being concerns me deeply, I fear the noise she hears may surpass our control. A few months ago, traffic in and out of our kitchen in the middle of the night was frequent, as our apartment hosted a staff of hospice nurses, for whom we needed to prepare meals as they kept their vigil; but rest assured that their presence is no more. These nights, my mother and I only enter the kitchen to brew tea when our worries have kept us up late. While we should be glad to stay out of that room if it affords your housekeeper any comfort, I confess that the loudest noises originating there between nine and midnight are the teapot's whistle and the motion of a wooden stool across the floor.
Third, having read your salutation, I thought I should let you know that this apartment's occupancy has changed. Only my mother, whom I returned home from college to look after, and I reside here. My father, Robert Hodes, died early in January, after the cancer in his kidney metastasized past medicine's powers of containment. He was eighty-three.
Empathetically,
James Mendez Hodes