Dear Neglectful Live-in Partner,
A ringing—no, buzzing—in my ears all morning kept me alert. No threat of drowsiness for me. I am happy to report that all the light bulbs and switches in the apartment are working and “buzz”-free. All flies and mosquitoes have been sought out and destroyed. And I must thank you for the truly satisfying discovery I made in the bathroom that I am most certainly not crazy and that the incessant hum throughout my morning was caused by an electric toothbrush left vibrating in the water glass on the sink.
Love,
Not Going Crazy
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Dear Neglectful Live-in Partner,
Thank you for eliminating my need for nail polish remover. How clever of you to make sure we cut back on that needless expense. Your dirty dishes this morning—while graciously left in the sink—were caked with slimy peanut butter, hardened cheese, and dried guacamole (all excellent gunk to create an instant exfoliant and nail polish remover for me as I scrubbed and picked). Thank you for thinking of our toiletry budget.
Love,
Nailed
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Dear Neglectful Live-in Partner,
I read somewhere that James Joyce asked his wife Nora to send him her dirty panties. As an aspiring writer, I truly appreciate the compliment you give me every morning by alluding to this exchange. You even go a step further than Nora by leaving not only your dirty underwear, but also your dirty socks by your bedside every day. As constant as the tide. And writers need consistency in their routines.
Love,
Inspired
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Dear Neglectful Live-in Partner,
Thank you for reminding me to water the plants this morning on your way out. The weed-growing, acne-prone young man in Unit 20 also thanks you; his plants were probably thirsty. And the family in Unit 18, they, too, might have needed the reminder you shouted loud enough for all to hear.
Love,
Green Thumb
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Dear Neglectful Live-in Partner,
Women may be from Venus and men from Mars, but we use the same toilet seat in this apartment. There is nothing quite like the feel of cool urine on one’s thighs first thing in the morning. The smell is unmistakable. I do enjoy a hot shower, so thank you for ensuring I took a second one this morning.
Love,
Ever Vigilant
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Dear Neglectful Live-in Partner,
Thank you for questioning my use of the word “chivalric” at that dinner party last night, for the humiliation of having the word “chivalrous” mansplained to me as you and your fellow management consultants doubted the worth of studying things like Medieval English literature. I was tickled at the irony of the poem you left for me this morning—not in the “chivalric” tradition that you had promised to write as an apology, but in the “chauvinistic.” The words, to your ear, being interchangeable.
Love,
Unsurprised
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Dear Neglectful Live-in Partner…
I know that you like reminding me that I am sweet, but please put the lid back on the sugar jar in the morning. I’m punctuating this note with the bodies of ants that I’ve killed today…
Love…
Slayer…
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Dear Neglectful Live-in Partner,
Thanks for thinking about my health and hiding that extra candy bar you bought for me last night. While I am clearly the better competitor in hide and seek, I approve of your hiding spot in the freezer, which added an additional barrier between me and my late-afternoon sugar fix. After several nearly chipped teeth, I took drastic steps, and I apologize for the disaster in the microwave. It looks disgusting, but I assure you it is delicious.
Love,
Your Sometimes Neglectful Live-in Partner
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Dear Not-Quite-So Neglectful Live-in Partner,
You may have received my many missed calls this morning. In a groggy panic, I could not find the coffee. You had made coffee on Sunday morning and even brought it to me in bed, perhaps making up for the sugar mishap with your own sweetness. And we read together for so long—you picking up Men Explain Things To Me as promised—that we were in need of more coffee. And you prepared a second plunger pot! But the Sunday shine had worn off by Monday morning as I furiously searched for the bag of coffee in sock drawers and beneath couch cushions. I left no stone unturned (including the large pink Himalayan salt block, which I swear I will use this weekend). In a final act of desperation, I checked the airtight coffee ground container I had bought to keep the grounds fresh. Lo and behold! A miracle! My not-quite-so-neglectful live-in partner, you had emptied the bag of coffee into the container. My morning fix is extra sweet. This might work.
Love,
Optimistic
