Dear My Inclination Toward Laziness...

Most days, you guilt me into doing enough around the house to keep things running.  Last night, however, I gave in to you, and you were a comforting, therapeutic friend.

Dear Common Sense...

At what age do you start showing yourself?  Because all three of my kiddos seem to be a bit short on you.  Come quickly, my friend.

Dear Friday...

I hope you live up to my expectations.  I've been looking forward to you all week.

Dear High Heels (addendum)...

My husband says that any pair of shoes that causes you to walk like a velociraptor is a poor choice.  Hence strengthening my belief that comfort should always rank above style.

Dear High Heels...

Why is it that I've yet to find a pair of you that don't hurt my feet?  Surely you exist.  Am I just not paying enough cash?  Or is the term "comfortable heels" an oxymoron?

Dear Freckles...

I love how you delightfully litter my children's cheeks.  Examining you makes me quite happy.

Dear My Life...

You really suck.  On the suckiness scale, I'd give you an eight.  And if I used harsher language, I'd have a few more choice words to further describe just how sucky your are.

Dear Leftovers...

Thanks for being there for me, because I really don't want to cook dinner tonight.

Dear Shopping for School Supplies...

You're a poignant reminder of my childhood, and a bittersweet annual event with my children that reminds they're growing up too quickly.

Dear Self-Centeredness...

I wish you'd go away.  After all, the world doesn't actually revolve around me.