Dear Drink Koozie,

Oh, my sweet, simple Drink Koozie.

On these hot and humid days, you prove yourself tenfold.

No longer do important papers stick to a condensation ring on my desk.  Never again do I have to stand uncomfortably as an iced coffee drips water down my arm.  Forever I am saved from melting ice water making a mess of my life because I have you, you little promotional gem.

And that’s your other beauty: you remind me of my favorite things.  Whether it’s a radio station, a food product, or a TV show, I got you because I loved something enough to get it.  Or you were handed to me at a fair.  Or I randomly found you.  Either way, you directly or indirectly my three favorite things: free, random, productive products.

So, it’s safe to say this is love.  You’re a year round necessity that makes me appear more put together.

You, dear Koozie, are sacred in my books.



Dear Fans,

I’m a huge fan of yours.

Seriously, no one thinks about you until a heat wave hits and then every corner of my house has you in it.  You sleep closer to me in bed than my partner does, gently caressing my skin with moving air until I’m lulled to sleep.

There are days when it’s just you and I against the world.  I sit in front of you, naked and sweating, while you defend me from the heat.  You are my knight in white-caged armor keeping me safe from temperatures nearing the mid 90’s.

May you ever oscillate at a consistent rate!

Your biggest fan,


Dear 4AM,

We’re getting to know each other quite well.  I haven’t seen Sleep in quite some time and I’m learning interesting aspects about you, my new friend, in Sleep’s absence:

  1. When you roll around, I can’t think clearly.  I spend my time contemplating the weight and buoyancy of pink elephants or if my books on the shelf move when I breathe.  It’s the brink of madness with you.
  2. You are this hazy point in the morning where the dawn hasn’t broke and most, insomnia-less, people are still asleep.   Even though I’m not asleep, the world feels like a dream.
  3. Revelations come frequently but, by 9AM, I can only remember having the revelation and how significant it was — I can’t actually remember what the revelation was over.
  4. Emotions run rampant.

You are entertaining on occasion.  Like, in college, when I would make the bleary walk home with you and remember all the happy times I had that night in a drunken fog.  Those are times that hanging with you seem appropriate.

I hope you won’t take this personally when I tell you that I can do without you for a while.  You roll in and I’m counting the number hours of sleep I have left before I need to get to work (if I fell asleep, that is).  I dread you hanging over me as I lie in bed.

So, perhaps, if you could go through your time alone tonight, that would be ideal.  I don’t want to hang.  I want to miss you completely; Sleeping, blissfully as you pass me by.  Then, in a few months, if I’m out with friends and find myself awake with you, I’ll truly enjoy your presence.

See you later….much later.


Dear Sleep,

You’ve been avoiding me.

What’s with this? Are you mad at me for something? Did I leave the light on or drink too much caffeine?

I don’t think I have done any of these things.

Yet, at 11:00pm, our normal meeting time, you are nowhere to be found.  You’ve ghosted from my life like Casper with demonic intent.  Thanks to your absence, I’m counting the hours and minutes and seconds as the night lumbers on.  Last night, with little else to occupy my time, I meditated to the fan’s oscillation as it moved left to right.

Without you, my life is a mess.

It’s 1:06pm, currently, and I’m yearning for you.  Forget accomplishing anything at work today, you’re all that’s on my mind.

It’s been four days and I’m lost. I amble from place to place with eyes that scream of your deprivation.  Consider coming back to me, at least for tonight.  Or maybe I can invite our mutual friend, Sleeping Pill, to come out and hang with us.  Perhaps a buffer will make our time together less strained.

Hoping to see you tonight.

With sleepy regards,


Dear Excel,

In my real world, outside of computers and blogs and mail merge, you will often find me living a world on the verge of chaos.

I’m not saying that my life is in shambles, no, it’s not that severe, but it is in a constant state of disarray.  You might understand this better if you imaging a formula that is nearly perfect but still not functioning because of a misplaced fragment.  Yeah, that’s essentially my life.

“Nearly perfect isn’t bad.” You may think.

And you’d be right.

I’m not complaining about my life.  I like my life.  It’s entertaining.

It is, however, often times, messy.  My room is almost tidy. My clothes are clean but not necessarily put away. My romantic life is anything but neat. My finances are…well…they’re there.

You get my point – I literally mean that my life is in disarray.  I wasn’t being all cutsey and metaphorical.

But, when I log onto you, my life becomes clean and orderly.  Each box has a column and each column has a name;  My lists can be ordered alphabetically or by year; I can present my findings in a multitude of ways with the use of a formula or pivot table.

You put life into understandable order.

And that makes it okay for the rest of my life to stay messy.  Well, close to messy.  On the brink of messy.

Thank you for creating order in a small part of my life.