It finally happened. I broke the rules enough that I need to confess my sins and be absolved.
In a perfect world where I am the epitome of organization and Murphy’s Law has been overthrown on grounds of constitutionality, the last several letters would look something like this:
58. Renee & Family (2011 Letters Project) -Roanoke
59. Alex C. -Chicago
60. Liz C. -Chicago
61. Stijn C. (@ Postcrossing) -Brussels (postcard)
62. Cora Beth T. -Chicago
63. Sharon D. -Seattle
64. Nick G. -Ann Arbor
65. my soldier in Iraq
In reality, I’m juggling #58, 63, 64, 65 at the same time. I’ve written every day–I promise!–but the past two days have just been like a chapter out of A Series of Unfortunate Events and I couldn’t pull myself together enough to finish off my letters to Sharon, Nick, and my soldier in a timely fashion. My contribution to 2011 Letters is already a whopping 6 pages of legal notepad paper with no end in sight and I have decided that I am just going to keep writing it until I can’t possibly have another word to say on anything, at which point I will go back and edit it into a hopefully coherent, interesting read.
Tonight and tomorrow morning have been blocked off for doing penance, and I will not rest until I finally have letters 63 through 66 written, beautified, stamped, and mailed.
EDIT: Were Life truly a chapter from A Series of Unfortunate Events, one might expect that upon opening her bag to pull out her current letter projects, the protagonist would find she had left them somewhere in Manhattan—to be perused and gossiped over by the very people who should see them least. Is there a reason I didn’t see this coming?
Would someone explain to me the justice in Murphy’s Law?