i like when you write little letters and take pretty polaroids. so i'm stealing from both. okay?
p.s....i'll never be vegan either.
dear 190th street subway station,
you are my favorite, in all of new york. you are old and beautiful and deposit me into a world of green and daydreams where the air is significantly cooler and fresher than all of midtown.
to my dad,
when i was little you'd always bring home flowers for my birthday. they made me feel old and important and loved. i have a beautiful new vase. it is empty and waiting should you choose to send me some this year.
p.s...i really love hydrangeas.
dear bed bugs,
we are not friends. we will never be friends. please, do not think it is okay to enter my bedroom. i have alcohol and vasoline at the ready and i will show no mercy. yes, of that i am sure, no mercy will be shown.
to the makers of dyson dc18 slim all floors:
i cannot afford your vacuum but think it might be of tremendous help in my quest to vanquish the bed bugs. if you were so inclined to send one my way...well, i might just scratch your back too, okay?
and side note to future husband: i will not pull an annie banks-mackenzie and almost call off the wedding if you buy me a blender. but i'd prefer the vacuum, actually.
dear honey (the food item),
our relationship is quickly becoming the most important in my life. and it is because of this that we must take a break. i'm sorry. i love you.
dear husband to be,
sometimes i get on my hands and knees and pray you never find the letters i've written to you, until long after we've fallen in love. because, well, they might just scare about anyone away.