The Arrant Sentinel


Yes.  Virginia.  There was a letter.  A letter apologizing for making me a bit longer for a longer letter.  Mostly because he’s been getting into a game I recommended he get into.  There may a poem to discuss.  I don’t know, y’all.  It isn’t anything, but it’s something.  It’s nice.  It’s stupid.  It is problematic.  It is still just two people writing at one another.

And I have been burnt by such a thing before.  But at the same time, there’s Griffin and Sabine.  Letters have power, a good letter can change your mood entirely.

I know I keep talking (by which I mean writing here about it and there’s a couple people who know that I have…they know as much as I’ve shared in this space) about it and I keep thinking in my head that I should just shut up.  I should just keep it, selfishly, sensibly, in my head where it can’t get overworked and overwrought.  Even if this is where the rolling pin comes out and stretches this little ball of conversation into a bedsheet-sized crust.  Apologies, I’m almost done with Great British Bake-Off and these doughy, unfortunately carb-laden analogies will stop, I assure you.  I even know I keep on dithering and pushing forward, casually.  I keep asking myself what a grown-up lady would do, but I don’t like the answers I get.

I just keep thinking of things we should talk about with each other.  Is that weird?  Like I want him to read my writing and tell me what he he thinks?  Like I don’t know about hanging out as people, but hanging out as disembodied sentient spirits which access to a keyboard?  It’s, I like it, like…a lot.  Everything else right now feels the color of winter and I know my energy allocation is off, I just…I have to be here now.

The snow is falling and I am home an hour and a half early as a result.  My windshield wiper is broken, that’s exciting.  But at least that super expensive warranty I stupidly bought should cover it, but it probably can’t get fixed until after all this snow is done on Friday. And tomorrow morning, new boss is coming by so we can go to a continental breakfast for our Point of Sale software company and I…

I feel like I want to be clever and coy with a letter to read while curled up in these blankets.

I’m typing this up so that I can play a game and not look at my email.  That seems like a good thing.


My brain has turned to mush, apparently.  Maybe I need to eat something.  I don’t know. I could have used that time better, but I watched the Parks and Rec finale and now want to watch every single episode of that.  And it’s hours later than my first few lines here and I still haven’t eaten so I am going to rise from my own ashes here and get some food in me.