Why is it so much easier to un-decorate a Christmas tree than to decorate it?
How am I supposed to write reference letters to eight different graduate programs when all I've been given is the name of the school and the deadline? And what is it with the number eight anyway? Why have two different students requested letters for eight schools this season?
Is there any end to the holiday sweets? What kind of miracle is taking place in my refrigerator to make that wonderful fudge keep multiplying?
Why am I suddenly receiving requests from people who want to pay me money if I'll insert a little text and a few links into my blog posts? Haven't they read the post in which I explain that I once quit a brief stint as a newspaper reporter because the advertisers were allowed to dictate news content? Or haven't I written that story?
Are there bloggers out there who are accepting $50 payments for inserting text that doesn't even fit the intent of the post? What kind of person expects me to sell my soul for a measly $50?
What am I supposed to do with all these pretty Christmas cards? It seems wasteful to throw them away, but who has room to store them all? Fifty to 100 cards each year for going on 30 years...who has a closet that big? And what if the mice get into 'em?
Why does it feel so satisfying to delete items from my Amazon wish list after the holidays?
Why does my dog feel the need to keep track of every bone she's ever hauled home from the woods? Why can't she delete a few items from her bone list? Is it really necessary to make our lawn a boneyard?
Why can't I think of anything interesting to write about? Will the new year bring a new bag of ideas or will I keep kicking around the same old tired detritus?
What will be the final question of the year? Will it be this one?
Or perhaps this?
1 comment:
Nope, they haven't read that. On the other hand, when they send those requests to me, they don't mention specific amounts of money, so I would have guessed it was more in the 50 cents range. And I'm really not willing to sell my soul for 50 cents.
If you had little kids, you'd give them cards to cut up and paste on stuff, and then, after they've been busy for hours, you could throw those out next week.
ps. Please have your fridge send my fridge some fudge!
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