In which the imagination of a housewife gets away with her...

Today was one of those days when I should have been taking care of financial paperwork but decided that I really needed to dust and rearrange furniture first.

Rearranging furniture always puts me in a good mood. Always. I dusted all of the surfaces in my room, caught up on the laundry and moved some things around. It felt great.

Then I went to the playground with the kids after school and had lots of lovely chit chat with my mom friends.

"My life, " I thought contentedly, "is so delightfully full."

When we got home I grabbed the mail from the mailbox and noticed a letter addressed to me.

A hand-written letter with no return address. The handwriting seemed vaguely familiar. As I considered the handwriting I began to imagine who might be writing me a letter.

Clearly it had to be from an old boyfriend. Maybe one of them read my blog and was so taken by my stories of dog poop and pus that he realized that I am thing which has been missing from his life. I went into the house with the letter in hand, trying to decide which old boyfriend it might be. The poet? The scholar? The doctor?

Then it occurred to me as I fetched the children their snack, it might be from someone I know now! The man who pumps my gas? The checker at Trader Joes? Someone who has loved me from afar and is making his intentions known???

As I made a cup of coffee I began to plan what I would say to this mystery man. I need to be gentle of course, but he needs to know that I only have room in my heart for one man. Though this new man may have many wonderful qualities, he cannot replace my Moo. He will just have to accept a life, empty though it will be, without me.

I sat down with my coffee and opened the letter, prepared to cope with the drama as it unfolded.

I tore open the envelope and began to read...

The letter was from my friend Carlene.

She was thanking me for a baby gift I got her.

Which was nice. Very nice.

It's possible that I need to get out more.

Maybe...