An Open Letter To K.S. Meadows

Dear K,


Can I call you K?  Do you mind?  After all, we've got such a plethora of correspondence going, that I feel we're close friends.


I want to thank you, truly I do, for the many, many emails you send me every day.  I am touched by your concern for me & my lack of a Russian wife. I am thrilled that I can have my pick of many girls. I believe you when you say that they are pretty.  I trust you when you say they are eager to come live with me.  I am intrigued, I really am, when you say she will do anything for me & I have a couple questions.


Will she dust?  & I mean REALLY dust, like the top of the armoire & move all the piles of crap lying around & dust under them?  


Will she get the water stains out of the toilet bowl?


Will she make me supper?  & not just a bologna sandwich, but a real supper with good food that I can eat on my restricted diet?


Will she scrape my car windows in the morning so just once, sweet jeebus, I could be on time for work?


Will she rub my feet when they are tired & sore.


&, most importantly, will she iron?  Cuz Conrad sure isn't showing up to tackle that pile in the closet like she promised she would when I was recovering from major abdominal surgery & a morphine OD.  Seven months ago.  I'm just sayin'.


Sincerely,
Wilma