Dear John,
Nothing and nobody tried to kill me today. I could get used to this.
It feels like I just had three days. I got up and did housework until noon, then worked from 1:00 to 5:00, then bought eggs on the way home, mowed and trimmed, took a shower, and Jim and Irene got here. It feels like three separate days. But, as I said before, at no point of the day was my life in danger. Jen will be happy.

That is one of those threats that feels more like a promise. After all the unwelcome excitement of the last couple of months, life in a playpen has a certain appeal. I would, however, want a playpen that comes with Wi-Fi, satellite television, and an adequate yarn stash. And, since that description sounds like my house, I suppose I'm okay as I am. But the playpen is tempting.
Your not-quite-sane wife,
Joan.
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