Dear Darling Ones,

My absolute favorite part of Matthew Sweet’s song “Sick of Myself” comes in at about 3:14 when you think the song is winding down and he says in a kinda growly way, “One more time.” Gah, it just fucking sends me. I’m sure I’ve listened to this song 92,184 times since it was released and every single time that “one more time” comes up my heart gets a little zoomy with happiness, and when I’m singing along I kinda half close my eyes, grin, and shake my head and say it along with him.

This isn’t even my favorite Matthew Sweet song (“Someone to Pull the Trigger”) but my body sure as hell loves the shit out of it. The older I get the more I pay attention to my physical reactions to music.

Anyway, last night The Youths came over for $6 sandwiches from Pig Stuff. The Youths are what I’m calling all my niblings and their romantic partners. For the most part this will mostly be referring to Max & his girlfriend Sonya, since they live in Minnesota and since Sister #3 has cut off us off from the Tibbles.

For the records: The Olds are my parents, Uncle Danny, and any of their various siblings. The Mids are me and my siblings, and well, I just told you who The Youths are.

Maxwell has been super adorable since he moved out. He misses me and Wendell a bunch, which makes me feel important and cared for.

Last night I confessed to The Youths that I had acquired a serious TikTok addiction since I last saw Max (on Sunday). Then I proceeded to pepper the rest of our conversations with “Well, I saw this on TikTok. . . ” Now you will never have to be sad that you can’t hang with me IRL because you’ll know that I’m super annoying and say things like “I saw this on TikTok” with a totally serious face and tone of voice.

Today I continue to procrastinate like a moutherfucker. I’m not entirely sure what my problem is. Maybe I want to work all weekend? Maybe it’s because I have an actual, factual real period and that’s super pissing me off. I’m forty-fucking-eight ain’t no reason I need to continue dealing with the monthlies only now that I’m in perimenopause it’s the randomies. Bleh. Also, it kinda pisses me off that the WordPress or Chrome or whatever spellchecking apparatus is at work in this typing box doesn’t recognize perimenopause as an actual work. Motherfucker? Okay. Tibbles? Sure. But fucking perimenopause?

These kinds of letters are my new thing which I will continue to write until I get bored or distracted or annoyed. As I’ve mentioned before I’m kind of preoccupied with sleeping away into the ether unnoticed, but at least if I write a letter a day my website will know I existed.

Right?

One more time,
Jodi