Dear Person I Saw In The Restaurant This Morning:

Ma’am, I realize that you’re trying to be subtle, but it isn’t working.

When you show up for Easter brunch at a nice restaurant wearing a hoodie, baseball cap, sweats, and dark wrap-around sunglasses, everyone understands that you’re either still high or fighting a hangover. When you walk around the buffet line clutching your small gym bag, the whole restaurant knows where you keep your stash.

There are lots of people who’d like to help. You can call the 24 hour help line at (206) 722-3700, or (800) 562-1240. You can call Swedish’s Addiction Recovery Services.

It’s up to you. But I’ll bet your family would smile a bit more.

Regards,

CB.

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Dear Guy Driving Near My Bus Stop Last Week:

Yes, I realize it’s the afternoon rush hour, and you’re in a hurry to get home. However, the walk lights at that intersection don’t always work.

Contrary to what you screamed at me, pedestrians don’t have to wait for an explicit walk light. As long as the traffic light is green in the direction that they want to go, pedestrians get to cross the street.

So yes, I did cost you an extra ten seconds because the guy in front of you had to yield the right of way. I suspect you lived through the trauma. If that’s all it takes to get you into a screaming rage, may I suggest anger management classes?

No love,

CB.

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Dear Mother Nature:

As you might be aware, my favorite birthday present to myself is to take myself out on a long kayak ride past the houseboats on Lake Union, through Portage Bay, and into the marshes outside the arboretum.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t do it this year, because you chose to dump buckets of cold rain over everything.

Thanks ever so. I’ve had a bad week. Would it have killed you to give us an extra day of sunshine this weekend?

Still no love,

CB.

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