I suppose the proper first thing is to thank you for is all the mothering you have done for me over the last week and a half. This girl is lucky to have you as her third mother. A billion thanks for coming with me to laser eye surgery because Boyfriend couldn't make it. I'm sorry, I really thought it would be more fun on your part. My bad. I'm also sorry if my calmness freaked you out. I'm also really sorry about the misunderstanding, I thought, like your husband, that the surgery would enable me to shoot lasers out my eyes. At least that's some good news for Boyfriend, because we all know that he would have been victim #1.
Another thing I need to thank you for are the eye drops you bought me. And the second bottle...and the third ones...and most especially the fourth bottle--the gel ones--they really lubricate my eyes and make them feel rather erotic. I'm not sure how you're taking that, but it's meant to be a compliment. Though, it has been brought to my attention that my backward-ass way of giving compliments is too confusing. I never learned how to do it properly, okay? Erotic eyeballs is the best compliment that's coming, and for that I apologize. Sincerely.
Oh, while I have your attention: We need you to ask Hubby Cupcake to come over and help hook up the blu-ray player, Boyfriend and I have no idea what we're doing. Also, your husband is unlikely going to be fond of his nickname that I just came up with. Tell him that everyone gets an alias in my blog! It makes me feel like Flava Flav, giving nicknames to my prostitutes. Honestly though, it's a good nickname. He's a hubby. And who doesn't like cupcakes? Idiots obviously, but my point is that cupcakes are freaking cute and delicious. Not that I think he's delicious. You know what...never mind. This next bit is for him: You're Hubby Cupcake because I choose for you to be Hubby Cupcake. Own it. Please note that for this nickname I am sincerely sorry.
Where was I? Muse, yes. I'm sorry that I came up with the post-surgery calling plan and it didn't work out. You have to admit, it did seem like a good idea to have you call, let it ring once, hang up and call right back. I would have known it was you without having to check the caller ID and hurt my eyes. I'm sorry that neither of us had the forethought to turn my phone back on after surgery so you worried when I didn't answer your calls. Whoopsies. At least Boyfriend was happy to chat with you when you called him.
I also sincerely appreciate the Wendy's a few days ago. That burger was everything I wanted it to be. Erotic eyes and a burger, the stuff dreams are made of. All thanks to you.
Sincerely (the real sincerely, not the fake sincerely I use when I apologize for things I'm not sorry for) yours,
Your Bestie,
K
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Darling Boyfriend,
We have had ourselves quite a nifty week, haven't we? You have to admit it had its moments and our relationship is all the better for it. No? Yes? Really, who can tell?
My first big thank you is for the assemblage of my bat cave. Who would have thought that our flimsy curtains wouldn't be enough blockage from the outside world to keep my eyes happy? You have to admit, I did my best not to bother you that first morning when I woke up and the post-dawn light sodomized my retinas. That's hyperbole. For effect. Okay, moving on. I'm sorry for the agonized scream that woke you up when I ran to the windowless bathroom to hide from any trace of light. I could have lived in there for days until my eyes healed. At least my legs would have been shaved. Who am I kidding? They really wouldn't have. But I could have stayed there were it not for your act of valour. I didn't know until the other day what you put over the window to coat the bedroom in blackness, but thank you for thumb tacking those towels on the wall. And that signed cardboard cut-out of the Barenaked Ladies that you also used as a screen, thank you for not letting me know that it was in our house. Now that I know it exists I want it gone. They've served their purpose.
I really am sorry that I ate your cookies. I just figured you had lots so I would help you get rid of them. You're welcome for replacing them with the Golden Oreos, I knew I wronged you and had to make it better. I'm really, very sorry that I ate your Golden Oreos in spite of the post-it note I put on them saying that I wouldn't. Yes, it was a bitch move on my part, but I was hurting and the only thing that would make it better was stolen cookies. You're welcome for replacing them with another box of Golden Oreos. I'm sorry we got to the point that you had to hide them from me. No one is sorrier than I am for this happening.
However, thank you for all your help when I couldn't see. Your compassion and sense of duty really shone through last week, this being especially paramount with all the little things. You brought me food and drops, Tylenol threes and helped me with my iPod. The last I am especially grateful for, day two of surgery when I blindly felt around for my iPod, felt a tangled cord on the night stand and grabbed the earbuds was a small victory. When I called you to come and turn the iPod on to a certain audiobook I really appreciate how you pointed out to my great dismay that the earbuds were connected to nothing. That's what I love about you, Boyfriend, you don't give special treatment. You love me the same no matter what the circumstance.
Thanks for telling me I looked hot in my blind person glasses. You didn't need to say that. I know I did. I felt it. Sexy, blind person glasses. I'm holding onto those for summertime. Eat your heart out Vancouver.
The last thing I need to write here is that I'm sorry we can't do this more often. I know how much you loved not fighting over the remote. But now I can see and I'm not afraid to sucker punch you for it.
Would you look at that, Boyfriend? It's time for tea,
Sincerely and lovingly yours,
K
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