Thursday, May 14, 2009
I am writing to confess that I have not always fully appreciated you.
For every time I called the newspaper office to complain, every time I muttered under my breath, "You couldn't have a little better aim than that?" and for every look of disgust as I shook a bit of snow or a couple of raindrops off my paper, I am sorry.
For all these transgressions and more, dear Paperboy, I am deeply contrite. After helping my daughters substitute on their friends' paper routes this week, I am duly chastened. I am a new woman. I will never again care where the paper lands.
With the utmost respect, and a bigger tip next time,