It feels unfair that you never get a letter since you are, at most times (and especially these days), less than 20 feet away from me and the recipient of some of my more unfiltered outbursts rather than someone who gets my thoughts after I’ve had some time to mull them over and fix any dangling participles. I wrote you a postcard about a week ago but you didn’t even get a real stamp or any of the additional dirt that gets on it when it passes through multiple hands via the United States postal service.
We should have a house newsletter. We can include it at the top of our newly inaugurated Evening Activities. Please find below a proposed itinerary:
6 to 6:20: Venting Session. Participants are to stand not four feet apart in their respective doorways and yell at one another and also the skylight, the things that have annoyed us today. Examples include former places of employment, what we saw on the internet today, and the general state of affairs.
6:20-6:27: House Newsletter. Examples include our current romantic prospects or lack thereof, how much Tito’s we have left on the premises, and the status of the leak from the hot water heater which has become something akin to a pet or a child, as evidenced by the fact that today I yelled “how anyone checked on the baby lately?” when heading downstairs to see if the pans were overflowing with water.
6:30-7:15: Evening Walk Around the Neighborhood. Discussion topics include critiquing the doors of our neighbors and what sort of house we’d like to live in next because, let’s face it, once this quarantine ends, we’ll practically be common law married so why not just seal the deal and buy some property together?
Until such a time that the above itinerary is implemented*, allow this to serve as my formal announcement. I’m bringing back Good Letters. I mean, I guess, Good Letters, in its current iteration, never left. I still make things. I still put letters on shit. But I’m bringing back the Letters of Good Letters. We’re getting back to our roots, boys.
Anyways, I love ya, Kev. Have I said that lately? Someone asked if I thought I might murder you before this quarantining time is up and I’ll confess it had never even crossed my mind as an option. Maybe that’s what happens when you grow up in a house with six other people? Sharing a 700 square foot space with just one other person feels a bit like a luxury.
But THEN, upon further contemplation, I realized, perhaps the reason it had never even crossed my mind to murder you is because I am oblivious to the fact that I am in the fact the one who should be murdered. You know, like, how everyone has that one friend everyone agrees would stab someone and, if you can’t think of that one friend, then that probably means it’s you. Please don’t murder me. Who would make sure you eat your vegetables and take your walks if I’m gone?
Okay, that is all. Thanks and good night.
*I do believe, per house precedent, a two-thirds majority is required for all new legislation to take effect and, in such a case where a two-thirds vote is not available, the third vote gets kicked over to a live Instagram poll.