Dear Universe,
You know I don’t like to beg. But seriously? We need to discuss something that I’m going to call… clamshells. Because I don’t normally like to even talk about clamshells, I loathe clamshells, but issues with clamshells incite regular penelope meltdowns, and it’s time we lay it all out on the table and admit this ugly truth.
The main thing is, I know it’s my own darn fault that I have a low supply of clamshells. But have you seriously not taken notice of my efforts to pay back borrowed clamshells and return to some sense of normalcy re: regular clamshell supply? You have? You’ve seen all budget cuts I’ve made in our company, the cutbacks, the conservation efforts, the true diligence in returning every spare clamshell we can? Well how come every time I even start to have a tiny sense that we *may* be able to shovel ourselves out of of the clamshell hole in a reasonable amount of time, you go ahead and put us back at Square 1. I’m dying to know.
For instance, why after returning a huge shipment of borrowed clamshells to the original distributor do you insist on BREAKING THE CAR and thereby, in one evil, fell swoop, leveling the clamshell playing field once again? It makes me want to weep. And I have. Because seriously, Universe, that’s just downright mean. And you’ve done it multiple times! If it’s not the car breaking, it’s something else. You always have something up your sleeve, you always wait for just the right moment to execute that terrible little sucker punch.
I’ve got my shovel in hand and I’m breaking a sweat, have been for months—years now, really. And waiting. Waiting for you to CUT ME A BREAK. Lessons re: clamshell borrowing have been learned. The hard way. Several times over. A little recognition, recompense here would be lovely.
Not your biggest fan at the moment, at least when it comes to clamshells,
penelope
P.S. In many other ways, I am your biggest fan, truly. But this—it’s a big deal. As I would say in bad traffic, Come the eff ON! Seriously.
4 tips left at the bar:
just when I thought all things had stopped breaking around my house, the hot water tank rusted and broke. And flooded my garage and M2's closet. And I had no clamshells to fix it, so I sat down in the garage and had a meltdown. The biggest yet. My BFF stopped by to see if I wanted to grab some lunch and found me in a puddle (haha) in my garage.
She, who is usually the calamity,
very calmly called her boyfriend (who I barely know) and he had a plumber over in an hour and it was all fixed. And told me I didn't owe him any clamshells. He said if we help someone out everyday, large or small, our lives are better for it. So, I believe in Clamshell Angels, and so far, everything (that I know of) has broken so maybe I can hang on until employed again.
Just Keep On Keepin On, Pen. It will turn around one day!
Thanks, Bj! :) I do believe in Clamshell Angels as well and perhaps don't give them enough credit sometimes...
Oh, and then I was reading those fools on The Hills make like, $100,000 an episode. Grr. What this has to do with the price of eggs, I don't know, but it annoyed me.
Can I also add, Universe, that I'm extremely generous? You do know this about me. Think about how many people are missing out because I'm not a multi-mega-millionaire. Just saying. It's not all about my desire to reduce stress.
Clamshell frustration and anxiety really makes me sad and worried and stressed. No fun! Keep on keepin' on. Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.
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