McSweeney’s is my soulmate and I don’t believe in soulmates.  But, in this case, I make an exception.  They have a section for open letters written to people or entities that are unlikely to respond to said letter.  Here is one of my favorite entries:  An Open Letter To My Dying Ficus by Julia Lofaso.  And here is one that I wrote and submitted last year which was rejected and never published, until now:

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AN OPEN LETTER TO MY ROOMMATE’S FRIEND THAT CONTINUES TO STOP BY AT ALL HOURS EVEN THOUGH MY ROOMMATE IS OUT OF TOWN.

BY LESLIE MUNDAY

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How’s tonight—or should I say, this morning—going for you?  You didn’t ask, but it’s not going so well for me.  See, you just woke my ass up because it’s THREE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING.  I know, I know.  Traditional conventions such as “time” mean very little when you’re feeling “motivated.”  You just have to go, go, go!  And there’s so much to do!

Wow! Your “To Do” list is long.  I shook my head in disbelief of its contents when you came over and read it to me on Monday morning, Tuesday morning, Tuesday night, Wednesday afternoon, Wednesday early evening, Wednesday late evening, and now, Thursday morning… hours before the sun has even considered coming up.

Agreed!  I really don’t know how you are going to find the time in the next month to return the garden trowel that you borrowed from my roommate.  I do appreciate that its safe return home is number one on your list, though.  And, your commitment to reminding me of that fact is uncanny.  I really might forget if I wasn’t reminded at least twice a day.  And true, face-to-face reminders really are the best.  So, thank you for staying on top of it. Really, thank you.

Oh!  That reminds me!  I have something to tell you too: KNOCK IT THE EFF OFF AND STOP COMING OVER.  EVER.

I’ve asked you multiple times to refrain from stopping by unannounced, but you still do.  For the record, calling, as you are literally walking through the front door, does not an announcement make.  I’ve asked you multiple times to refrain from stopping by at weird hours, particularly when that weird hour is five minutes after I get out of bed and haven’t even made coffee yet (much less drank the coffee), but you still do.  I’m really not sure why there is any miscommunication here.  I think I’ve been pretty clear.  Yet still, you seem to be confused.  Regardless, this Groundhog Day-esque type of thing is making me want to scratch my eyeballs out.  And, I need my eyeballs.  So please, just stop.

Until we meet again (which will hopefully be never),

Leslie Munday

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