Would you look at the time? I just turned around for a minute and a whole year went by. Bloody cheek, if you ask me. And here’s me with so much to do and say and…
Start with the correspondence. So many letters to write, so little time:
Dear Checkout Chick.
I do understand that items run out occasionally but running out of bonus chocolates at your particular checkout does not excuse you from pretending there aren’t any in the whole store. This is especially true when the neighbouring checkout is struggling under the weight of said chocolate.
Yours in chocolaty dystopia,
Dear Bus Driver.
The “ding” sound you hear at frequent intervals is a signal that at least one person would like to get off your vehicle. I’m sure this concept was covered in Bus Driving 101; perhaps you were absent that day. On a related note, when I hail you from the bus stop I am not indulging in a polite greeting.
Dear Felis Catus.
Thank you for your operatic recital outside my window this morning. Unfortunately I am neither a fan of opera nor the musical stylings of your species. Please find another venue immediately.
Yours with teeth set on edge,
Dear Adipose Tissue.
Is it absolutely necessary that you store every excess calorie I consume? At the very least you could let go of said calorie as easily as you converted it. Come now, is it really fair that what takes you a second to do takes me half an hour to undo? Fathead.
There! That should do it for now.