Last time I looked they were still on the dining room table in a neat little pile. Three piles, actually. Written. Blank. And envelopes.
“How about working on those today ...,” I suggest.
“The sooner you get it over with, the better you’ll feel,” I encourage.
“Don’t you think it’s about time you got through with those?” I ask.
This lesson I have learned — thank you notes are not at the top of my 18-year-old son’s list of fun things to do, especially at the start of summer and just after graduating from high school. I don’t blame him. But he’s still gotta do it.
I miss the days when I could bribe him. If I thought that it would work, I’d say something like, “If you finish your thank you notes today I’ll give you a present.” He’d never go for it.
Sigh. A good thank you is important. Even for the little things ...
Like, thank you to the four ladies who parked your carts all which-a-ways in the middle of the grocery store aisle yesterday, not realizing I was waiting patiently behind you. Had you not stood there and chatted, I might never have noticed that my favorite cheese was Buy One Get One Free, thus prompting me to get two packages. I love cheese. You can never have too much cheese.
Thank you, 50-something-year-old woman shopping in Walmart and wearing a mini dress. You made me realize something I have always suspected — that just because a tube top looks like it might be long enough to be a dress, it is probably just a tube top so don’t attempt to wear it as a dress. Ever. Especially if you’re going to be out in broad daylight bending over to pick up a 20-pound bag of dog food.
Thank you, makers of ibuprofen, for the defective cap that was on the bottle of pills I bought a while back. I had a headache and I couldn’t get the bottle open, no matter how hard I tried. I even went to the kitchen and got a knife and tried to cut it off, but instead I nearly whacked off my finger. Then I beat it up against the counter.
Nothing. So I threw it away and went to bed and fell asleep with a pillow over my face. My husband came home and I moaned because I still had a headache and didn’t have anything to take and he must have thought I was dying because he cooked dinner and by the time it was done my headache was gone. Then we had leftovers the next day and because I didn’t have to spend money for lunch, I bought a scratch off lottery ticket and won $47.
Thanks for the $47. I think I’ll buy more ibuprofen, but another brand.
Thank you to the woman in the library who told me I had something stuck to the back of my pants. It was a hot pink post it note and on it was written in my handwriting the words —Don’t be late. We both laughed when I took it off and I think you were laughing because it was stuck on my rear end but I was laughing because I had no idea what it was I wasn’t supposed to be late for.
I think I’m probably late.
I’m going out on a limb here, but thank you to my 18-year-old son for finishing your graduation thank-you notes soon and/or before I lose my voice from reminding you to do it. Oh, what the heck. If you do, then I’ll give you a present.
How about some cheese?
Contact columnist Mandy Flynn at firstname.lastname@example.org.