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
The continuing saga of a quack who's gone to the dogs...or cats, as the case may be.
I could use a wife, too.
ReplyDeleteOr should I say, loving slave.
Which would cost me less?