Dear John,
This week is backwards. I just worked a Monday that was busier than last Friday. And from what I hear, I'm glad I was off last Saturday. Slow Fridays always come with a price. This morning I had out two new tellers with me for an introduction to the drive-up. After years of being a nurse educator and preceptor, it felt like the old days. It was good.
I'm sorry I didn't talk to you last night. I was in bed with the laptop getting some bills paid, and nothing wanted to work right. I got extremely and unreasonably frustrated and irritated, and decided I wasn't fit company for anybody. About an hour later the tummy ache hit - evidently that was what had me wound up and crabby. It kept me up a good bit of the night, but I've felt fine today. Nobody deserved to be subjected to me last night.

What can I say? You're The World's Only Perfect Man. You always said that I was wrong because you had faults. Of course you did - if you didn't have faults you wouldn't be perfect, just annoying. And you're certainly not annoying. Just perfect.
I could use some perfection tonight - come rub my feet? I'll even move the dog and three cats out of your way so you can get to them. Thank you for all the foot-rubs. Thank you for being gentle and patient with me. Thank you for having faults and not being annoying. And it's probably good that you didn't think you were perfect - that was for me to know and you to argue with. The only thing I can't thank you for is forgetting to take me with you. You've probably guessed that. Come back for me?
Love you so much,
Joan.
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