Dear men who are working on Ned Flanders house,
I feel like after all this time I know you like friends. You spend your days over there, working and laughing and I have to tell you, Ned's house is coming along rather nicely. Sometimes I wander out onto my porch to see what kind of progress you've made for the day, and spend a little time watching you work. I am amazed at how fast a house-in-a-box can bet put up. But you are making me so slightly grumpy and I feel like I need to cut this off at the pass. Why oh why must you arrive so effing early in the morning?!?!?! The first day I was ok with it. You came, dropped off your stuff and left. And this happened several more times, with you showing up to do actual work at a more normal time. 7am is not a normal time. I know that I am awake anyhow, and these days even the kids are. And I understand that you are trying to get that house done so Ned and his family can move in before school starts (which is less than 2 weeks away I should warn you)... but for Cripes sake, I haven't even had my coffee by then and the noise of your machines and tools is grating on my last nerve. (see below for why I am down to my last nerve). So what's say you and I make a little deal. You show up at say, oh, 8:00 and I'll bring you cookies and beer.
Love, crazy lady across the way
Dear first sock that I have worked so effing hard on,
How could you break my heart like this?? I have faced my fear of little pointy sticks in multiple, I have figure out how to get the yarn on those sticks to join together, and have knit for 8 inches, so proud of myself for figuring it all out on my own. I dropped stitches, I picked them up and we've had a good time so far. I have noticed that part of your leg is a little bit thinner than the rest, and I wonder if aggravation caused my stitches to be ever so much tighter than when I started. And today, we get to the heel. The heel that has been my beacon since inch 2. And what do we find.. we are one stitch short. One lousy effing stitch. I counted, I searched, I cannot find a dropped stitch anywhere. I know something wonky went on this last row when I was foolish enough to think that I could try you on and see how you fit. 36 stitches on one little needle is pushing it and a few of you tried to jump ship. I thought I got you all..but it seems I didn't. So I have after unraveling and looking and cursing and contemplating beer at 9am, created a stitch in a place where I think you got lost...and moved on. If you dare to fall apart on my after we are all finished you are going to the frog pond. I will always love you little sock, my first... flaws and all, just don't mess with me too much more or you will be mate-less for life.
I am at my wits end with you. I must force myself daily to think about the 9 long months I grew you, and how cute you were when you were little, and how much your father would miss you should you somehow disappear from existence. Because so help me, if I have to tell you one more effing time to keep your hands to yourselves, or stop yelling, or could you please for the love of God leave your sister alone.. I will have to kill you. Oh, I will feel terrible after... but for a brief moment when it's done, I will relish in the silence that has been absent from our house for so long now. I know it's the end of the summer, I know that you've been cooped up with each other for a long time, and not having a car to go out has been difficult for us all..but it's only 2 more weeks. I feel like my last nerve is going to snap, and so I am packing you off to Grammies house for the weekend. Drive her crazy for a little while.