An Ode to My Husband.


Dearest Husband,

I am so pleased you find documentaries exciting and fascinating.

I am less pleased by your need to share every. single. moment. of said documentary with me.  Repeatedly.

This was my writing weekend.

I wrote nothing.

You talked non-stop for hours.

I would deary love to love you upside the head with a pillow made of bricks.  I shall settle instead for staring moodily at you over my cup of tea.


A Frustrated Writer

An Ode to Weekends.

Two wolves playing near forestDear Weekend,

I was not prepared for you to abandon me in my time of need.

Your duty is to leave me well rested and prepared to face your evil sibling–the week.

I depend on your being there for me.

Be forewarned, any future delegations of your duties will result in your being summarily dismissed.

No love,

An Exhausted Author

Oh Vile Betrayer

Replacements6Dear Noise-Cancelling Headphones,

Oh, how your betrayal hurts.

The agony of being stabbed in the back by my own possessions.  You yank me back into my chair when I stand.  Your sound distorts unreasonable.

Oh, the agony.

The pain.

I send you no love.

An Inconsolable Author

P.S. Bought a new pair. You’ve been replaced.

Ten Things…


Ten things I’ve learned from watching Engineering Disaster shows with my husband:

  1. We’re all going to die.
  2. Flying is dangerous.
  3. Trains are also dangerous.
  4. Ships are also dangerous.
  5. Everything is dangerous.
  6. People say the most absurd things when they are in shock.
  7. Natural goes likes to go boom.
  8. Never live near a massive factory.
  9. Avoid everything mechanical.
  10. Live in a cave. Seriously, a remote cave that is far away from people.

Or, stop watching crazy disaster shows? Maybe.

An Ode to My Ear


Dear Ear,

I understand and greatly respect the work that you do for me.

Without you, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy The Piano Guys on full blast while I’m working.  Or enjoying the rich baritones of some of my favourite actors in their movies.  In other words, I couldn’t live life as fully as I do without you.

That wonderful bit out of the way.

Could you bugger off with the ear aches?  I am driven to distraction by them.  I am not amused.



An Ode to My Doorbell


Dear Sales & Religious People,

My doorbell works perfectly fine, you can tell it works fine when you press it.

Why then is it necessary for you to ring it then bang on my door repeatedly?  Surely, you heard the doorbell when you pressed the bloody button.  You didn’t even wait the obligatory minute before you knocked.

Ignoring the fact that there is a massive sign at the entrance to my subdivision which says no soliciting, not to mention the fact that I am not even pretending to be polite when I yank the door open.

Why for the love of all things that is holy do you need to bang on my bleeding door?

No love,

Cranky Author is Cranky