Thursday, November 3, 2011

An Open Letter to Whatever

Okay, whatever is biting me – I presume by this point that you're a spider and not bedbugs because of the lack of bedbug sign – may we talk for a moment?

What is it? Why me? When are you biting me: at night in bed? Sometime in the evening before bed? It's my long-sleeved shirts, isn't it? Or my First Avenue coat? Are you getting me at Godiva in the back room?

Look: we're both just trying to live in the same space. You're a small thing that I can't find and I'm a big thing that hasn't finished arranging the apartment from when it moved in. There's plenty of space and cool hiding places for you right now until I get my crap together. You've got time. I've got distractions.

And don't think you're off the hook 2011. I still want to have a sit-down with you, but this is just more pressing right now.

Thank you,

Greg

1 comment:

  1. I certainly hope they aren't bedbugs. Bedbugs are the horriblest.

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