Dear Household Items

I wasn't sure what to write about today, so I thought about things in my house and if there was anything I could say about/to said things. This is what I came up with:

Air Conditioner;
I fear that you may be dying. Please don't die. I need you, especially when the overnight low temperature is 77. If you die and fall out, there will be a gaping hole in the side of my house. Bugs and heat and probably eventually the Chinese will get in and we will all be doomed.

Chemistry Textbook;
Stop taunting me. When I fronted the $158.98 for you, I was under the impression that I would be using you for two semesters. How wrong I was. All I really needed was the $30 code for the online book! You are a sneaky little cheat, only fetching, if I'm lucky, $25 on Amazon. Why don't you go get a real job like soaking up oil in the Gulf?

Bag of "Extra Giant" Marshmallows;
What in the world am I supposed to do with you? I really don't even care for regular marshmallows, let alone marshmallows that are the size of the fist I can't make because of my knobbly arthritis-hands.

Reese's Pieces;
I love you, but I can't. If you didn't have any calories or fat, I promise I would only eat you. Ever. Also, you don't want to see me on a sugar high.

Dog;
I've figured you out. I know you only love me because I feed you French toast and ham and ice cream, and because you can hide under my legs when Padre is mad because he found the pee/dog treat/poop you left on my bed/under his pillow/in the basement. I wouldn't have such a problem with this if you did something more than lounge around on pillows all day. A little watchdog instinct might be nice. Kisses and tail-wagging are probably not going to keep Al-Qaeda and/or the Chinese away.

I am also afraid that you may be slightly retarded. Your name is Shiloh. Not Dishrag, Stinky, French Door, or Carpet Bug. It saddens me when you respond to every word uttered in your general direction.


I'm sorry today wasn't so great. But here's a picture of Dog.