To the Top Shelf:
As a rule, I’m not one for genocide. . .
However, I wouldn’t be one to complain if you were eliminated completely from my life. I appreciate the extra storage, I really do, but I feel like there are better alternatives. I could get a much more pleasant shelf to take your place.
You constantly mock me. Just by your very presence, but we won’t even go through the number of times that things get knocked over that rest on top of you. You know full well that it will drive me crazy to leave it, so I attempt, by ladder, tip-toe, or any other desperate measure to right the wrong you have committed. However, this act generally causes more things to fall over, furthering my frustration instead of making things better.
Dusting you is almost the worst. The opportunity for more havoc is exponentially increased.
And really, the fact of the matter is, you are everywhere. No matter where I am in life, I will always look up at you with fear, loathing and disgust because you will always exist.
My only alternative is to make my peace with you and that is the purpose of this letter.
I have always been perfectly content with the way God made me. Most tease me and say I am fun size, but my personal favorite epithet is this.
“I’m travel size, for your convenience!”
However, you could go away and I would never care. So, I am just going to say, I will bear with you. I will do my best not to want to glare at you every time I am presented with an opportunity to make use of you. And if, so help me, I am required to dust your vast expanses of out of reach-ness, I shall do my best to do so without a grumble. But no guarantees.
And you can bet that I will be taking advantage of all the taller people I can. If I can avoid you, I will.
Your “fun-sized” tormentie.