Thursday Sticky Notes

Dear Man In A Yellow Jacket, Next To Me On The Train This Morning:

I'm sorry. I must have been the most creeptacular neighbour. Now, don't get me wrong; I am in no way apologizing for the knitting & knitting needles. You won't like me when I'm not knitting. There's no need to look at knitting needles like that.

I am sorry that my allergies are running amok, and chose to arrange with my sinuses to flashmob my nose with copius clear snot. I'm also deeply sorry that I'd ruthlessly cleaned out my purse, and after much rootling (surreptiously snorking all the while), I could only find one tissue, which was of course printed with rubber duckies. I'm not contagious, and if I could take my allergy meds, I would. But I'm knocked up, so I'm stuck at the mercy of all the tree sex* floating through the air. Also, repeated uses of the same rubber-duckie tissue is less disgusting than wiping my nose on my sleeve. Or your sleeve. Still, I'm sorry. Hope your day improved.

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Dear ____ At Work: (and ____, too.)

The reason I make little instruction manuals up is for you to use them to try & teach yourself things. I even put lots of pictures in. When you ask questions that are addressed on page 1, you in no way endear yourself to me.

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Dear Chiro -

I love you. Thanks.

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Dear Quesadilla -

I love how your cheese congeals,

I could eat you most every meal.

With double salsa & sour cream

You are such a spicy dream,

And at six bucks you're a heck of a deal.

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Dear Readers -

Sorry about the quesadilla limerick. I couldn't help myself.

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Dear LYS -

I'm trying to decide which signs from the universe will mean that I should go & get some Zauberball. If the order (with the fuchsia) is in before noon? If I get at least one knitting project done this weekend? If I win a lottery?

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Dear Universe -
If I try & hedge my bets will you turn on me?

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Dear Bedtime:

Yes, I know.

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*Disgusting, shameless, hermaphrodite hussies. They are clearly not complying with my policy of "I don't care what you do for jollies, as long as it's consensual", so I'm getting my judgements on. I don't consent. I hate tree pollen.