Dear Upstairs Neighbor,

Must you wear heels while vacuuming? I have no idea what’s going on in your apartment, but I doubt this is necessary. It’ s 9am on a Tuesday.

Dear local high school,

Do you have a radar of some sort? Do you somehow know when I need to go out for groceries and then have events? I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to come back to my house and not find any parking within a three block radius. Especially when carrying groceries. In a broken bag. In the dark. Don’t even get me started about your band room being right next to my building.

Dear Covered CA,

Thank you for providing a young, self-employed person healthcare. I love you so much. Except you think my social security number doesn’t exist. And you won’t stop sending me nonsense letters. Also, maybe you should let my provider know that I have insurance through you guys. They seem to think I don’t, despite sending me a new card and everything…? Please stop being difficult.

Dear Spotify,

Will you quit interrupting my songs with ads?! It’s really rude, and really hard to concentrate on whatever I’m doing when you’re pinging me with 30 second ads every two minutes. Rude. Also, do you not consider that since I am currently using your app to listen to music, maybe you don’t need to advertise Spotify? I’ve clearly figured this out already, and perhaps this isn’t the best use of your resources.

Dear woman across from me at the coffee shop,

I understand that this establishment has comfortable couches. I enjoy them. What I do not enjoy is seeing you with your knees sprawled 3 feet apart as you type on your laptop. You are not at home. And for your sake, I hope you do not have roommates that you subject to this behavior. If this is in fact a clever scheme to monopolize an entire couch, it is working well and I applaud you.

Dear espresso,

I love you so much. Will you marry me?

P.S. Coffee can come to the wedding too, if that’s not weird for him.

 Dear dishes in my sink, 

Do you multiply every time my back is turned? And forks, how do you all manage to go down my drain at once? It’s quite frightening when I turn on the garbage disposal and you somehow manage to launch dishes out at me? I don’t think we understand each other and suggest we do some sort of third-party counseling. As in, maybe I call someone in here to just wash all of you? All the time.

Dear Beyoncé,

How do you manage to spin your hair around and dance like that simultaneously? Every time I attempt this, I fall over. I could use your expertise right about now, because I think it is imperative that I have some of your moves in my arsenal.

 Sincerely,

EVA ♥