First, let me preface by saying that I
(sometimes) (often) (all the time) separate myself into different categories when thinking or speaking about myself. (And yes, I know this seems a bit loony.) For example, there’s Past Liz, Present Liz, and Future Liz; there’s Work-Week Liz, Weekend Liz, and Vacation Liz; there’s Business Liz, Leisure Liz, Party Liz, and Party-Avoidance Liz; and there’s Morning Liz, Day Liz, and Night Liz. Just to name a few…
Now, with that explanation out of the way, here’s a letter Morning Liz recently (as in today) composed for Night Liz:
Dear Night Liz,
I’ll be brief since you have the attention span of a gnat on dope.
You’re killing me! Really. You are.
Do you have any regard for how early I have to get up?
Do you think I like rushing around in the morning because I hit snooze one too many times?
Do you know what it’s like to wake up already exhausted?
Of course you don’t! You leave that all for me to deal with.
And I’m really starting to hate you for it. A deep, passionate, loathsome hate.
So please, I beg of you, keep this in mind tonight when you think of starting French lessons at 10:00pm, or that 11:45pm is the perfect time to begin a puzzle.
If you don’t, I’ve already talked to Mid-Afternoon Liz, and she’s fully prepared to take a sleeping pill or two in order to avoid you all together.
Heed my warning!
Curtly,
Morning Liz
P.S. Don’t be surprised if you get a letter from Day Liz. She also has a bone to pick with you.
