Dear Bridget,
When I say it rained me to the couch, I mean it rained so much that I had to stay on the couch all weekend, which is uncharacteristic of me. The rain just rained me right down, and I liked it. In my defense, I was sickly. Still am. Just the kind of sick where you really feel quite unwell, but not unwell enough to not live your life. Which is the worst sometimes, because you still have to go to work and do your obligations, but you feel just on the cusp of sick enough to make yourself slightly unhappy that you’re doing anything but being on the couch. Do you get me?
Here are some scenes from my couch and my inside days:
I spent a lot of time pulling out the weeds last week, but alas my yard shall always be a jungle.
Luckily I know a guy… Swimming in a sea of dishwashers. I gave him a coffee. He said thank you. I said thank you for installing my dishwasher, which is a much bigger favor.
My cat is so photogenic, he looks straight at the camera like the adorable fiend that he is.
I’d never leave this place if I didn’t have to. I’m in it right now, if we’re being honest, WHICH WE ARE.
I love you more than I love Bruce Springsteen,
Anna
Letters Without Stamps 