Letters To Annoyances

Dear Dumb Dog,
Why have you suddenly started sleeping on beds? I do not think this has been going on long, but even one time is one time too many. I love you. I think you are the cat's pajamas the dog's slippers, but that does not mean that I want to share my bedding with you. No offense, but you stink. I realize that in doggy world Stink = Good, but that is not so in my world. Somehow you are under the mistaken impression that my bed is now your bed. You need to get um... unmistaken. Pronto. Because if I lay my head down on my pillow and it smells like smelly dog again, I think that it's a safe bet that you will find yourself being quickly shooed away while having choice words hurled after you. And if that's not scary enough, I have two words for you that might frighten you into awareness: Dog Groomer!
Love,
Your Annoyed Alpha Human


Dear Boy Children,
I love that you are having fun playing football in the front yard with the neighborhood kids. I am happy that you are outside enjoying the weather. I am thrilled that you are getting exercise and fresh air. I am beyond happy that you play so hard that you fall asleep easily at bedtime. But why have I had to explain to you MORE THAN ONCE that I don't want you playing in your good pants?
Is it so hard to understand that if you play in your good pants and they get muddy and grass stained, that they henceforth and forevermore cease to be Good Pants? What is the difficulty in comprehending that when I spend money on new clothes I would like them to look, oh I don't know, new for more than 12 hours? Is it really so hard to change into one of your 724 pairs of Crappy Pants before you head out the door? I guarantee it will not take you longer than two minutes. And those two minutes will save you hours of future lecturing and lamenting from your mother.
Love,
The Mad Laundress

Dear AT&T,
I hate you. I hate your unreliable internet service. I hate how my computer suddenly loses its connection in the middle of important things. I think that you and the minions who work for you are the Spawn of Satan. Let's quit each other. And let's not be friends either. Because this just isn't working out. And it's not me, it's DEFINITELY YOU!
I hate you,
Sara

Dear Migraines,
You suck.
I hate you, too!
Sara

Dear Football and Baseball Season,
Are you almost over? Because you are killing me. Seriously. I am typing on my deathbed. I need my weekends back. I really do love you when we start out, but I am quickly losing interest. I think our relationship is on it's last legs.
Sorry. I'm sure that I'll go back to loving you next September. Oh, and I'll still love you when you show yourselves on the telly.
Love, but falling out of it quickly,
Sara

Dear Germy Crud,
Please go away. Nobody wants you around here. Head on down the road and bug somebody else already. I am ordering a hazmat suit. And cases of Lysol. You have been warned.
Thanks,
The Germophobe

Dear Laundry,
Didn't I just finish washing, drying, and putting you away? Why do you insist on using my laundry room as your own personal orgy palace? And isn't there some sort of laundry birth control you can use, because seriously, your procreating is way out of hand. Stop! Just stop.
Going commando soon,
Sara

Dear Eldest Girl Child,
Put the phone away already! Your thumbs called and they want a vacation.
Love,
Mom

Dear Youngest Girl Child,
If you go to sleep when it's bedtime, then you will not be a little bag of whiny-butt when you wake up. Please, I am begging you, for the love of all that is good, go to sleep at bedtime. And if you wake at 3:47 a.m., just roll over and go back to sleep. Really. You don't need to come in and tell me that you woke up. You don't need to come in and try to sing yourself back to sleep on my floor. I promise that the light on your bedside table and in your closet will keep anything bad from happening. I promise that if I don't get a night of uninterrupted sleep soon, bad things will happen because I will be too grouchy to deal with your whiny-butt wake-up attitude.
Go. To. Sleep.
Love,
Mom

Dear Reader,
Don't you wish you lived with me? Yes, I am a joy to be around. Please don't go away. I promise to get over myself. Venting over. I think you all are seriously awesome for sitting through this post. You rock.
Love,
Sara