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Argh... already? Where did the weekend go anyway? It just can't be Monday yet, I'm just not ready for it at all. I've been so busy, almost too busy to blog! Where does the time in a day go? I still don't understand how there just does not seem to be enough hours in the day to get everything done, I'd say working everyday just adds to it. Maybe there have never been enough hours in a day to begin with.  I wonder if that's why there's a tomorrow? Possibly. So, where did my weekend go? Let's try my weekend in letters...

Dear Neighbor,

When you do yard work right at the edge of the road – and your near the wooded area, close to a blind curve, - perhaps head to toe camo isn’t the best choice. Just a suggestion. And, sorry I made you jump out of the way.

Dear super-expensive car driver,
Thank you. No really, thank you for going through that stop sign and almost plowing me down. It reminded me that I need to get my blood pressure checked soon. Jerk.

Dear Guy in front of me at the movies,
Did you really need 5 minutes to simply stand there and take off your coat, fold it, and then hang it over the back of the seat, then re- arrange it on the seat, then check your phone and then stretch your back before getting settled in your seat? I doubt that very much. 

Dear Lady behind me at the movies,
Ok, first off, you brought your toddler? Too young for this movie. The only thing he understands is what doggies say. I know this because I heard him say it. TEN THOUSAND TIMES. And the fact that you refused to stop him from kicking my seat for two straight hours simply wore me out and made me unable to fully appreciate the movie at all. I can't even remember what movie I saw. That's bad.

Dear Brother-in law,
I promise it was just a coincidence that I saw you in the library - meeting up with some woman who was clearly not your wife. And giving me the stink eye is not going to ensure that I do not tell your wife that I saw you either. My memory is not what it used to be though. I blame my kids for that.

Dear Cell Phone Guy,
This may come as a surprise to you, but nobody here gives a shit about you, who you're talking to, or what you plans are this weekend. Take it outside or assist me. Period.

Dear Restaurant Manager,
No bread pudding for dessert? I only go to your place because I look forward to having the hot bread pudding dessert with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. What the hell. Just ruin what's left of my night.

The end. Although, I did get a little painting and a little journaling in for good measure. But, really, I just don't feel like I got much out of my weekend at all. Well, I'll try again next weekend. So, anyway, how was your weekend?

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