Excuse me, um, Monday Morning?
First, hi, how are you? Tired? What’s that, you didn’t sleep well? Ah, I’m sorry to hear it. Aaanywho…Juuust wanted to touch base with you about something I’ve been thinking long and hard about lately. And that is: you just don’t treat me as well as I think you should.
I mean, I spend all weekend thinking about you, making myself pretty for your arrival, dreaming up what we’ll do together…doing happy dances in my own personal space on Sunday morning just anticipating waking up to you.
And then…you let me down. Listen, it’s not entirely your fault. I bet you’re doing your best. Maybe if I didn’t binge watch past episodes of The View and E! News Weekend on Sunday night and stay up too late studying celebrity gossip, I’d wake up earlier. But you know how I love less than credible journalism. Or maybe, if I didn’t drink a Diet A&W root beer while reclining in my fluffy bed reading blogs at 11pm, I’d have less indigestion and better breath. Some things are simply too hard to change.
So, I guess…well…I’m asking you to put a little more skip in your step. Up your game a bit. Because I really want to love you like I did when we first met in 1985.
Today, I baked you a sweet treat. Because I want to set a better tone for our weekly dates. I’m a giver.
So please enjoy these strawberry crumb bars. They’re your favorite. Yes, I said crumbly. Uh huh, they do have that buttery shortbread flavor. Mmhmm, with sweet and gooey strawberry centers. Uh, yup, they’re dessert. No, not breakfast technically, but I say it’s after dinner somewhere. I thought you liked that? Listen, if you have a problem with rich little crumb squares and the slight tartness of strawberries, tell me. No? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, you like them?
K, good. So…let’s just say we’re a work in progress. No hard feelings, I just think we need to both put a leeeetle more effort into making our time sweeter. These are a start. An olive branch from me to you.
Ha, oh no, that’s sweet of you to think of him, but really, we don’t need to save any for Daniel. In fact, he won’t even know about them. I bet he doesn’t even realize I’d have a moment free to bake them, given how exceptionally busy I am with singing new Ingrid Michaelson songs, baking, drinking lemon lime seltzer, and making messes. So really, he’s fine about it.
Glad we had this chat.
Well I feel better. You?