Dear Person Upstairs,
You work in rather mysterious ways and always manage to surprise me with gifts when I least expect them.
Yesterday was a doozie.
I was thinking, "Hoorah! It is the end of the week! Nothing can bring this chicken who don't eat chicken down!" But, the day turned into a minor explosion of terror the second I got to work. In the morning, there were conference calls with disconnected numbers and drivers going to wrong places. It was the definition of awry.
Then you gave me gift number one, a gift I will treasure for all time and one that I am praying has a part two (being that there will be a visual for this when the film is released). I said many a prayer of thanks and promptly shared it with everyone I know, including all of you.
Then more junk hit the jello.
French folks were running around yelling, bosses were spilling sauces on their pants before tres important meetings, people were losing things and deleting documents and making me want to perform a self-lobotomy with the pencil that was on my desk.
Then you gave me gift number two. Printon 56, right near my office, has frozen yogurt. The stuff that is the real kind, none of this pink in your berry face business; I mean the kind like the place in the Laurelwood shopping center of my youth run by that nice Greek man who always gives me extra toppings whenever I am home.
Then more salami hit the sandwich, some chili hit the dog, and the tater hit the tot.
You get the idea.
I finally manage to free myself from the building of doom, fled to my hood, and stood in my apartment feeling super exhausted. I had a mental argument with myself that went a little something like this:
ME: "I am so tired. I want to fall down on my face."
ME2: "You will feel better if you get some exercise."
ME: "Shut it."
ME2: "No, YOU shut it!"
ME: "You're rude."
So, I went to the gym with a giant grudge against myself, the whole way there thinking, "I should have never listened to you. I am not going to like this."
Then you gave my final gift of the day. I got on a treadmill with a TV on it; the screen was on. I was not paying attention, was programming the speed, putting in all my info, and I started to run. I looked up and who was staring right back at me?
LAWD HAVE MERCY ON MAH LOINZ.
Friday Night Lights was on. And, the episode was just beginning.
I RAN LIKE THE FREAKING WIND!
I WAS A PANTHER! I WAS A LION! I WAS NUMBER 33! I WAS ON FIRE!
So, even though the day was a roller coaster ride of emotions and exhaustion, you managed to give me the strength I needed to make it through, you gave me gifts along the way, and you brought me back home to my man.
Thank you for always providing light during the times of darkness and for always providing a little Taylor in my Kitsch.
I hope he knows that I fly fish, too.
Update: from Sanchez.