Dear vacuum, broom, and dust pan: I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you. After working all day, you’re about as attractive as Newt Gingrich in a Speedo.
To my girlfriends: I do want to get together. I’m not just saying that. During the day, I’m distracted by disbursement authorizations. At night, I’m surrounded by fart jokes (the perils of living with boys). I could REALLY use a night on the town. But by the time I think about calling you, my eyelids are heavy. And Portlandia is on.
I’m just being honest.
To my pastor, you’re a brilliant man. Seriously. My dozing off in the middle of your Sunday sermon is not indicative that your delivery is lackluster or your content boring. I’m just. So. Tired.
To yoga, walking, and other exercises I once performed regularly periodically: I will come back. I promise. For now, I’m taking the stairs, parking further from work, and doing “Just Dance 3” with my sons.
To my long-distance friends and family: I love you, I really do. But if you’re not on FB, I probably won’t be in contact. It’s not ideal, but then, neither is Facebook.
And to my fellow working moms: I’m appalled that I ever questioned your commitment to our sons’ school. Why did I look down on you because you couldn’t make it to the Groundhog Day party? Never again.
I now know what I didn’t know before: that you’re doing the best you can, in the midst of a crazy-busy life. And you most likely want to be a driver on a field trip. But you also want to keep the job that help pay for the field trip...and lunches...and raffles...ad nauseum.
Finally, to my hobbies: I remember our time together with fondness. God knows, I spent plenty of money purchasing necessities like mini paper cutters, industrial-strength adhesive, and pacifier-shaped “punches” when my firstborn was a toddler. Since then, however, your appeal has faded.
The choice is clear, and I’m sorry to be so blunt, but I side with sleep, reading, and spending time with my family members.
And for that, I make no apologies.
