Did this guy ever have writer’s block?

Looks like I have some more letters to write. So, without further adieu, let’s get right down to it, shall we?

Dear I Can’t Sleep,

Why do you wake me up in the middle of the night for no apparent reason? I mean, here I am, sleeping soundly and it is as though the very thought of me catching 40 winks is enough to put you on edge. So, you wake me up and wham-bam, I’m as wide-eyed as a four-alarm fire. Oh bother. Can you at least wait until morning before you knock me out of my dreamy bliss?

Dear Ninth Grade English Teacher,

Thank you for passing on to me your love of words and your absolute delight in double meanings. Because of you I learned that Dorothy Parker once said, “Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.” You thought it clever and I thought it depressing, given I wear, ahem, glasses. You also taught me that there are many play-on-words when it comes to Charlotte Bronte’s book title, “Jane Eyre.” I remember how giddy that made you as you regaled us with examples:

• The Eyre of her ways,
• Enjoying the country Eyre,
• Around the world in a hot-Eyre balloon,
• Eyre to the throne, and so on.

Thanks to you, Miss M, you were the first to spark in me creativity and a love for the written word.

PS: Loved that you’d spend the summer months as a cab driver in the big city.

Dear Memory,

I miss you. You used to be crystal clear. I could recall phone numbers, instructions, directions, you name it. I could be in the living room and remember that I needed something from upstairs and take the stairs two at a time (though that had less to do with you than with my youthful exuberance) and still remember what I needed to get by the time I reached the top of the staircase. Now alas, that is not the case. I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed…Now, how does the rest of that saying go? Oh never mind. I miss you, Memory. Barbra Streisand once had a song about you that if I remembered how it went, I’d sing it now.

But since I don’t, I’ll just say, ditto!

Dear Writer’s Block,

Can you please step out of the way? Seriously. You’re giving me a brain freeze and I’m not even eating ice cream.

Dear California Water Drought,

If every homeowner does as they’re supposed to, and ditches their lawns of green grass splendor in favor of Xeriscaping, then how will we teach our children the old adage, “The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence?” Just wondering.

Dear Bookstore,

Once there was an abundance of you. I took you for granted, knowing that on just about every corner I’d find you and lose myself for hours amidst your bookshelves. What happened? Where did we go wrong? Now it seems I have to drive for miles just to find one of you. Plethora, be damned. Which makes me very sad and nostalgic for days of yore, when there was a bookstore on every corner. Yes, there’s nothing like the smell of a new book in your hand. The crisp pages with words that tumble from the pages as you peruse it. Remembrances of taking my children to the bookstore on a Saturday night and how we’d each come home with two new books of our own.

Oh, bookstore, I’m lost without you. Where will I take my grandchildren, should I ever be lucky as to have one or two? The dry cleaners? Somehow, it’s not the same.

Dear Rebate Offer,

Yes I bought two boxes of Betsy-styled Kleenex–whatever that means–but that’s because that was all that was left in the store. Of course, the bonus was the $5 rebate offer I later learned about. Downside is all that you expect of me in order to get said rebate.

It used to be that mailing in the proof of purchase and receipt was enough. Now I apparently have to take a selfie of myself holding the tissue boxes and the receipt? Then, I need to tweet it and you want me to send you a text, to boot? Oh, and you only allow me 48 hours to process or I’ll self-destruct? Well, how badly do you think I want this rebate, anyway? Sigh. Okay, I’m on it. After all, I’m not going to sneeze at $5. Unless, of course, it’s into one of your tissues.

Dear Rebate Offer #2,

So I signed up for your cable channel. Now, let me get this straight. In order to get the rebate you’re offering, you want me to send you six months of billing statements proving I’ve been paying for your channel, plus a seventh month that shows I didn’t have the channel prior to six months ago. And I noticed that the fine print says you want a copy of my tax returns from last year? How about a dog in a cone head with an eye wound? Would that suit you, too?? Sheesh! All right, already! I’ll send you everything you want because, gosh darnit, your $15 rebate offer is just too good to pass up.

Now, who’s next?