As you'll recall, late yesterday afternoon I phoned to inform you of my frustration with the day you'd delivered. I clocked out an hour-and-a-half early (at your suggestion, may I remind you) to take a nap (also at your suggestion, may I remind you) with the covers over my head (I feel, I must, yet again, remind you that this, too, was your idea).
I despise redundancy (as must be apparent in my opening statement) almost as much as verbosity; however, I feel it most important to clearly and abundantly, without equivocation or any chance of misinterpretation, state (restate, in my opinion) my expectations.
When I expressed my interest in what is known colloquially as a "do-over," you should have made clear if that goal was not, in fact, achievable. Given that you did not discourage my line of thinking, and did, in fact, encourage it, I think it only reasonable to expect you to deliver on my request. And, let's be honest, shall we? I believe it is a universally accepted notion that when one puts the covers over one's head, one expects things to be quite different when one pokes one's head out of said covers.
Again, as much as I deplore repetition (as I have stated, along with my distaste for circumlocution), I simply feel I cannot stress enough that, as you introduced the whole escape/replace notion I embraced late yesterday afternoon, you are compelled to deliver on your implicit promise. I can only assume two things: one, perhaps the hour-and-a-half allotted yesterday was not sufficient; and, two, perhaps you did not correctly note my desired outcome. This brings us to today's missive. I am putting in writing my notice that today, I not only will allow more time, but also will very clearly state my expectations.
I shall be making myself unavailable to you for the remainder of the day. I shall, as you so clearly recommended yesterday, crawl back into my bed and pull my covers over my head. My expectations when I crawl out are as follows:
- I am able to breathe again. Through both nostrils. At the same time. And without the use of a box of tissues every 4.75 hours.
- My eyes will no longer itch, nor ache. Nor will my nose. Nor my throat.
- The pressure in both of my ears will have been relieved. As will the ringing. Seriously. Enough with the ringing. It's enough that I feel I am underwater. Does there have to be a tuning fork under there with me?
- My muscles will not be aching. Nor will I have any chills.
- My head will not be pounding. Really. It's simply adding insult to injury at this point. Which, by the way, so is the ear ringing (see #3).
- The excess weight I am carrying will have disappeared. You know how much. You put it there.
- At the same time, my muscles (which will not ache, please refer to #4, list one) will be tightly toned. You know the shape I'm talking about. The one you gave me in college.
- My legs will be shaved. And my feet pedicured. Go ahead and throw in a manicure, too. And a conditioning treatment on my hair.
- My house will be cleaned. Like my mother's coming over. Yes, that kind of clean.
That is all. I trust I'll not have to remind you again.
Most sincerely yours,