Note to self

Dear self,
Hey, what's up? Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you're looking a little rough around the edges lately and I know you're sick. But a sore throat is really no excuse to miss a night of brushing your teeth. Or showering. You need to perk up sparky, you only have 4 more days of work, you can do it! I know you can.
With much love.
Me.


Dear Me,
Thank you for letting me know. I mean, I HAD NO IDEA that all this time I was walking around looking like a homeless man took a dump on me. But I have an excuse. I'll have you know that I spent ALL NIGHT Saturday up with a sick toddler. His head hurt. He wanted to watch T.V. And then it was, "Get me some Turkey, because I'M STARVING....." at 2 am. Did you have to scavenge for some pre-dawn deli-meat? Did you?
Respectfully,
Self.


Dear Self,
I know- a sick kid. It's a pass for pajama pants in public. It's a pass for half-assed ponytails and the previous night's smeared eye make-up. It is not, HOWEVER, reason enough to neglect the proper changing of one's underpants. I don't care that you didn't sweat in them! Pull it together man, you're making us look bad.
Annoyed,
Me.

Dear Me,
I changed them! Look, I got up this morning still feeling ill and got dressed for work. Not just dressed for work, but DRESSED FOR WORK! To the nines! To the tens! I look awesome this morning. And Brae, well, he's on his antibiotics so soon he'll be back to his charming self and then we can really work on pulling it together. Just wait.
Apprehensively yours,
You.