Dear anyone who may visit in the next week,
I'm apologizing in advance for when you enter into our home and discover a mini-house (an apartment really) in shambles - completely destroyed by an epic disaster. I trust that, given the circumstances, you wouldn't have done any better. On the bright side - it has kept me from being anti-social as I want to be as far away from it as possible...forever....FOREVER. So, if you do feel the sudden urge to drop by, maybe we should go grab coffee or something instead. Take a nice long walk in this beautiful Arizona summer heat - oh wait, that was the boxes talking. I have every intention of being out of boxes ASAP. I don't do boxes. I hate boxes. I may even loathe them. They give me a special kind of anxiety. A very, boxy boxed-in kind of anxiety - like I can't breathe because they are just growing larger and larger.
Ok - that was a little overly dramatic. They don't give me anxiety to that level. But they make me want to run away. Maybe that was their plan all along. Multiply when I'm not looking so they can eat our things and drive us away. Well boxes, you won't win. We're bigger than you, well maybe not me, but I know people bigger than you. Plus, we have more man-power than you. I knew it was a bad idea letting you pop in for a quick dinner. Well boxes, you can take over the apartment, but you can't have our house. You're not allowed. Nope - not allowed. Access denied. Once you have returned all the items you have stolen from us, we're kicking you out. Sending you back to where you came from. Well, I don't think we can turn you back into a tree - but we're sending you away none-the-less. I will give you 3 days to spit out all your treasures that have been entrusted to us and then you're out.
Tough love. Someone's gotta do it.
Sincerely,
Sara
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You've officially cracked
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