Apologies

To all the people who took the time and effort to write me a letter this year, but who I never got back to, I’m sorry. I’m sure I read your letter, or at least looked at the subject line, or the outside of the envelope, but then I probably got right back to my game of Candy Crush or obsessing over what to have for lunch that would taste good but wouldn’t mess up my diet. I never did figure that out, so I just ordered French fries instead. But it means a lot to me that you took the time to write, just not enough to make the effort to actually formulate a response, and sit down and write it, and then look for the address on your envelope that I threw out last month, but I haven’t gotten around to emptying my wastebasket so I’m sure it’s in there somewhere, and I will need it to find your address, because, even though you apparently have kept track of me I haven’t actually thought about you since that party in 2012 where I had one too many Margaritas and threw up in your kitchen sink. Again, apologies for that.

Tony, I want to thank you again for lending me your car last month when mine was in the shop and I desperately needed to get to the mall for that sale at Nordstroms. You’ll be pleased to know that I was able to buy the last pair of hiking boots in my size, and they’ve been working out great. But I’m really sorry what happened to your car on the way home. Honestly it wasn’t my fault, despite what the police report says. That guy in front of me had no business screeching to a halt for a yellow light, we both had plenty of time to make it through if he’d just stepped on the gas instead of the brake, and of course that’s what I thought he’d do and that’s why I was right on his tail, so you really can’t blame me for rear-ending him. I’m sorry you’re having trouble with you insurance company collecting for the damages, but I don’t understand why my driving with a suspended license should have anything to do with your insurance. And I’m sure the threat to cancel your policy is just a negotiating tactic. Maybe try getting a repair estimate from my friend Bob. He works out of his aunt’s garage, but nobody that I know does a cheaper job. Also sorry about your upholstery. That happened before the accident, I spilled a Chai latte in my lap, so I’m really the one who got the worst of that. You will be glad to know that my chiropractor says I should only need 10 more treatments (@ $200 each) so do make sure to let your insurance company know to include that in their payments. Otherwise, I may be forced to sue you. I hope we’re still on for pickleball next weekend. I’d hate to let a potential lawsuit stand in the way of our regular game.

June, I apologize for eating that last piece of apple pie that you were saving for your mom. I know how much she loves pie, but the truth is that all that crust isn’t very good for her what with cholesterol and high blood pressure and everything else that’s wrong with her. I didn’t know that you’d already promised her that piece and that she was making a special trip from the west side just so that she could sample it. Listen, I could run out to the supermarket and buy another apple pie. I doubt that she’d be able to tell the difference between that and the one that you baked with those special Evercrisp apples, that really was one of the best things I’ve ever tasted, which is why, when I saw it sitting there, so lonely on the counter I couldn’t resist having another piece, even though I’d already eaten two at dinner. And I honestly did not see the note that you said you put on it “DO NOT TOUCH! SAVE FOR GRANDMA!” It must have blown off in a gust of wind or maybe it was just too dark to notice when I snuck down to the kitchen in the middle of the night because I heard that pie calling my name. OK, maybe I just dreamed that, but still, the bottom line is you should forgive me and bake another one and this time hide the last piece a little better so I can’t find it.