A letter from home

Dear Shawn,

I miss you. Don’t you love me anymore? I remember the days when you used to wander through my rooms dreaming of things that we could do together. Ways to grow and improve. Projects that we would tackle together. Have you forgotten all of our plans?

You used to vacuum me at least once a week and let’s not forget those incredible dusting sessions. You would lovingly run your hands across my sills, counters and sometimes even my baseboards! I loved that. I miss that.

Yes, yes, I hear you talking about how you are working and that the whole family is supposed to be caring for me now, but things just aren’t the same. I try to love those boys but they climb on my banisters and are always slamming my doors. You know how I hate having my doors slammed.

I hope that we can work this out. I don’t want things to get nasty. I don’t want to do this but I’m forced to say that if you don’t start caressing me again as only you can do, I’ll have to start emitting odors from hard to find places. I might have to clog a few sinks and let mice back into the house. Do not force me to throw some breakers here.

I love you. I want you back. You know the males in this house just don’t clean me like you do. I’ll be waiting patiently for you.

Sincerely,

Your forgiving though filthy house.