an open letter:

• To my neighbor - Your wind chimes are lovely. Between the hours of 10 a.m. and 10 p.m., I quite appreciate the veritable symphony of pleasure wafting through my open windows as I enjoy the subtle hint of fall you must not be enjoying because your windows are sealed tight and the air conditioner still running. Thus, you're being denied the magic coming from your 10 wind chimes of various sizes and depth of tone. Between the hours of 11 p.m. and 6 a.m., your wind chimes take on an entirely different scope in my brain. Perhaps I'll pound on your door at 2 a.m., 3 a.m. and again at 5 a.m. (for good measure) and we can stand outside together and enjoy while I share with you my evening disdain.
• To my husband and sons - It's a reasonably large hole made even bigger by the lifting of the seat, so why do you all have such a difficult time hitting the target? Do you think it's a pleasure ride for me to come in after you and discover your poor sense of direction when I sit down? Are you smirking outside the door as I mumble nasty words and wiggle away from the offending puddles? Not cool. Perhaps eliminating the 'dick flick' at the end of the routine would lessen the chances you have for missing the hole entirely. Besides, I've never seen the value in it anyway.
• To my husband again -That other thing is also a reasonably easy to find hole. 'Nuff said?
• To the Powers That Be at the bookstore - Sure, it beats a month of John Denver or Carly Simon, but I swear to you, if I hear Hide and Seek on average of seven times in a six hour shift over the course of the next two months (which, it appears, we're on track for), I will lose it. A perfect freakin' meltdown. Seriously.
• To Me - Hey baby! Have I told you how hard you rock? Yeah? Let me tell you again. You rock so hard. Hold onto the magic, baby! I'd so do you. What's that? I have done you? Heh. Well then, allow me to compliment you on how you've addressed the topic of, well, you know, here at the old "...for a different kind of girl" without once using the proper name for it! So cute! Besides, I know you like it when I call it "riding the unicycle."
• To Ann and Nancy Wilson - Yeah, just wanted to say thanks for Magic Man and its perfect companion piece, Barracuda. I might be Crazy On You two wacky gurls lately.
• Parents who bring their kids to the bookstore rather than put them down for naps they desperately want and/or need - Good call. Great times. Thanks for letting them run like rabid spider monkeys in the children's department, tearing out books I've spent the previous four hours shelving by author's name or subject. Not as easy as it sounds. Don't let the ease with which I do it fool you. And don't think I'm particularly enjoying it to the soundtrack of Hide and Seek, either. Oh, and when you finally go on a monkey hunt and yell the kid's name over and over, there's probably a reason why they don't respond right away. It's because they're hanging out behind the column on the stage and working their way through a raging bout of diarrhea. Fabulous. If we're all lucky, I'll only be left with the heady perfume of your lingering visit when you finally leave, a trail of Berenstein Bears books, stuffed animals, and god, hopefully nothing else, in your wake.

Sincerely,

Me (still rock, baby!), who barely survived Monday and is a smidge fearful for what Tuesday brings...