so, Joe's birthday is tomorrow. so guess who ran to the post office at 2:30 today, desperately trying to get a birthday card in the mail?

you guessed it: me. moi. the bad wife.

the chance that he'll actually get it tomorrow, on his actual birthday, is about 1 in a hundred million. even though i went to the airport post office. :( i really feel really bad about this. i was all worked up about certain other people who play a large part in his life who weren't interested in sending him a birthday card...and now i messed up sending him one. his own wife. and i can't even get the card to him on time.

now in my defense, Michelangelo and i have been feeling pretty lousy since last week. minor colds. and Leonardo has been sick-ish since Saturday. but it's just one little trip to the post office. it shouldn't have been so much trouble for me to get there.

so dear, if you read this, i'm sorry. it's not for lack of love that you probably won't get it tomorrow. it's everything else about me (you know which things i'm referring to) and, well, i'm sorry. if you'll give me the name of your instructor, i can try to call him and make him give you the day off tomorrow. not that that would make up for my callous thoughtlessness...how about i bake you some cookies when you come home? and i promise not to put any onions in them  :D