Thank you for sending the following text to my husband:
“Are u guys sending out thank u cards 4 donations 4 J.? If not, did u know my Mom sent u a card & donation?” If I know C. with her A-personality she’s trying to do it all herself, let her know that if she needs some help I can come over and help her.”
By sending it to him and not me, he got to pass your message on, and then of course hear me curse you out, and then have to beg me not to say anything to you (triple point score!) Now, I didn’t say anything back in Jamaica about your bitching about us not accomodating your every (bullshit) food need, or your incredible selfishness in snotting that not switching rooms to the single room (when you were single) and letting my other guests take the double room (because, ya know, 2 = double?), even after I asked you to, even after someone ELSE asked you to, and to please not upset me, was not about me. I mean, I was too busy trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened to my life. And I also didn’t want to get into it at the airport the night we got back, you know, when you were on the phone with your mother, and I could hear the one sided conversation which included “”No, I’m not getting dropped off.” “They’re dropping the other people with us off.” “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” I mean, because seriously, after paying for your entire vacation, save for the plane ticket, it’s just plain bad manners to drop the ball on dropping your ass off at home, right? I could tell your mother was asking why we weren’t dropping you off, but were dropping M. and A. off. (Because, bitch, he lives next door and she lives 10 minutes from the airport, she could be home in a cab before W. even gets back from the parking lot with our car, and oh, btw, DO YOU EVEN FUCKING REALIZE WE’RE TRAUMATIZED AND JUST WANT TO GET THE FUCK HOME ASAP???? )
It’s not really your fault, though. He should have known not to say anything to me, anyway. That pisses me off, you tell me something you know is going to upset me, then tell me not to say anything, and get mad that I’m mad I can’t say anything. Come on, man, why the fuck are you going to set up the pins and tell me I can’t knock them down?? Don’t set them up then!
But I digress. Where was I again? Oh, yes, your text. The card. My bad.
Please, accept my apologies. It was very bad manners to have let 45 days go by before sending out thank you cards. Of the nearly 300 people who sent cards, gifts or came to the service, not a single one of them had the presence of mind to remind us of our obligation to send them a thank you card in return for their expression of support. They must have been going by the timetable that says there is no timetable for sending a thank you card, if it takes a year, it takes a year. People will understand. (Were THEY ever confused!)
Let me thank you for being the only one who realized that someone should remind us that there were people waiting to be thanked.
I have a stack of cards I’ve had here for 4 weeks, but that is no excuse. I mean, my goodness! 45 days is long enough to be able to face those sympathy cards without breaking down, am I right? Listening to the people who insisted it wasn’t important that I send them a thank you card, that I just concentrate on myself, what was I thinking?
But no worries – tomorrow, first thing I am going right into my office, sitting myself at the desk and you and your mother (her, AGAIN. Stupid, insensitive assholes don’t fall far from the tree.) will get the very first card, fresh out of the pack. Thanks to you, I’m no longer sad at the idea. I’m downright fucking m…otivated.
Screw you very much.
Sincerely,
C.
