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.




