An Open Letter To My Wife: Things I Won’t Do
In the spirit of the book I just read on Abraham Lincoln, I’ve decided to write an open letter (to my wife). As I have no newspaper to publish it in, I suppose my blog will have to do. After all, blogs will most likely replace newspapers in the future anyway, much to the New York Times chagrin.
To my beloved wife Karey,
On many occasions I have allowed my love for you to dictate my behavior. Things I have had little predisposition over, such as the location of my shoes or the segregation of my laundry items, have been changed to your liking. And on many items we both agree harmoniously. However there are a few major things that I must protest your handling of, and assert myself at this time. None of these should take you off guard, as I have communicated them in the past. However at this point I feel I should dictate them in an open forum, perhaps to give others the courage to fight for preference.
My darling, no matter how much thou dost campaign against the following, I shall remain resolute:
- The bar of soap in the shower shall be replaced when the previous bar’s width is less than 1/8’’. I shall not be compelled to wash with soap thinner than the top layer of my skin. Piggybacking the old soap onto the new soap (creating soap hybrids or supersoaps) shall be allowed as long as both soaps are of the same breed.
- My hotdogs and hamburgers belong in their respective bun packaging. It is an affront to Jesus (in my view of Christianity) to place a hamburger between two pieces of sliced bread, or to wrap a hotdog up in a single piece. While I am not a rich man, I do budget carefully a portion of my monthly income toward appropriate meat bread packaging.
- When the level of condiment reaches lower than 1/8’’ (I like that number), the remaining condiment shall be forfeited to the garbage can. Too long have I reached for a catsup bottle and found scarcely enough catsup for a single french fry.
Unless these demands are met, I shall have to levy sanctions against you. My shoes will no longer lie dormant at the front door. My laundry shall co-mingle freely. You have been warned!
Your loving husband