The Plea of a Heartless Boy

I am a horrible person! I should be flogged, drawn and quartered, tarred and feathered and rode out of town on a rail.

A very good friend of mine, known as the Wendy-lady, was more than kind enough to remember my birthday, and sent a thoughtful and interesting gift. I picked up said gift from the office just after my birthday, which happened to be Easter Sunday this year.

Now, I have been meaning to thank the Wendy-lady almost everyday since then for her thoughtfullness, but unfortunately, I have been habitually absentminded when I am home, and have failed to send off a missive to her thanking her for said gift.

Dear Wendy-lady, I am so sorry to have been so negligent! I am a sloven. There isn't much of an excuse. You are yet another victim of the blankness that covers my mind when I walk in the door. Yes I am tired, working hard and fast, but I am plenty clear headed while enduring the city traffic. Thanking you, dear Wendy-lady, is usually on my mind when I am winding my way homeward at the end of any given day of varying lengths. But do I plop myself down and do it when I get home? No! My mind just fades away, nothing gets done, including a very belated thank you.

So, here I stand, as it were, open to the world, expressing my thanks and begging forgiveness for being the heartless boy it is so easy to be.

Your very on Pan