Dear Misfit Socks: Hey you, pile of rebels, you make my stress bulge.  We have surrendered to wearing mismatches in public, but it’s not a fresh fashion statement.  I want to bundle you into a socky ball and stuff you deep in the trash, but let’s try couples therapy instead.  Why is the wash cycle tearing you and your mate apart?  Are you too alike?  Would fabric softener and warmer water unstiffen your feelings for one another?

Sincerely,

Laundry Woman

Dear Dishwasher: WTF???  It’s a terrible magic trick.  I turn away, you’re crammed again.  How many dishes can three kids really destroy in a day….exactly, you’re screwing with us.  And, let’s put it out there, you’re lazy.  Like I don’t spot those peas still sneakily smushed against the bowls or cream-cheese-crusty knives?  Suck it up, get it done, stainless steel mofo.

Sincerely,

Dish-putter-awayer

Dear Weedy Garden:

Thanks for killing off all our vulnerable vegetables.  You’re taking advantage because I’m weeding-phobic.  Plucking weeds is worse than a root canal (dentists’ chairs are relaxing escapes from my kids).  You put me in awkward positions that ache my joints, bust my fingernails.  Crouched down in a heap, I can’t spring up to wrangle my sparring children before we require an ambulance.

Sincerely,

Sucky Weeder 

Dear Random Shoes:

Cease trying to break my neck.  I’m tired of the stubbing, the tipping, the tripping, and the nearly dropping the baby on her head.  Can’t you navigate your way to the shoe rack or a cozy little spot on the mat?  THIS IS A THREAT-most of you are useless blister-makers, and you’ve been getting by on your good looks.  Panda face Toms on Zappos, I bought you because you were staring, all cutsie and half-off.  This is how you repay my charity, ungrateful worn-once and already stained Toms, as neck-breakers?

Sincerely,

Next Stop, Rescue Mission

Dear Hardwood Floor:

There’s just no way to be nice about this.  We had you lovingly refinished before we moved in. Every little scrape gone and a gleaming Makeover!  You should be thankful for the face-lift.  Instead, you seduce all the guck and crumbs, and still aren’t satisfied until you’ve charmed every innocent scratch.  Even worse, you’re vindictive… we’ve all wiped out on your slick spots.

Sincerely,

Just Not Cool

Dear Little Yellow School Bus:

7:37 a.m. Chaos- backpacks, ice packs, juice packs, flying.  Isn’t that a tad early for a grumpy 4-year-old and mom with boob hanging and baby drooping off?  We do appreciate your stop at the top of the driveway, but during pounding rain and bone piercing snow, it wouldn’t hurt to inch a tad closer.

Sincerely,

Lady at Door in Ratty Robe

Dear Jordana’s Room:

This is a no-hoarding-home, so why are you stuffed to the gills with broken tiaras, limp tutus, half-finished artwork, and chewed gum?  Press everything back into the toy chest, the vanity, the overstuffed drawers, and the junk pops back out like an evil jack-in-the box.  Wallets, hair ties, furtive candy wrappers….  On devious days, I rip your guts out, hoping Jordana won’t notice her tattered leotard smashed in the trash.  Don’t you want to be clean and respectable?  It’s time you have a talk with that girl.

Best,

Jordana’s Mother

Dear Beds:

Apologies all around. I spent an absurd amount of money to dress you up classy.  Pottery Barn quilts, flowery monograms, plump pillows, you name it.  The kids puked and peed on your expensive embroidery.  But let’s just get right down to it.  I’m overdone, a leathery Thanksgiving turkey, with no oomph dripping to make you up.  You deserve better than an occasional clean sheet.

Sincerely,

Just a Tired Mamma

Dear Laundry Mounds:

I save you for last because you deserve 99.999% of my wrath.  I mean, really?  I’m living in a sci-fi movie where dirty underwear replicates then takes me hostage?  Our relationship is dysfunctional.   I pick you tenderly off the floor, save you from cracks in the couch and lonely corners, gently rub your ketchup schmears with Shout.  Still you refuse to come clean.

Your shrinking, fading, fraying fits behind my back are passive aggressive.   Since nudity isn’t an appropriate option in Syracuse, I’ll put up with you for now.

Sincerely,

Watch Your Back