Dearest P,
Your concern for my welfare is overwhelming. I would feel a slight pang of remorse for the manner in which I addressed you in my correspondence yesterday except that I know your concerns are as much for your own future on the block as for my individual welfare. That is, of course, why I adore you.
Although I would certainly take Hillary’s call if she beckoned (in America we put two "lls" in the middle), I can’t pretend she has brought her rather puffy ankles ’round these parts. I fear our closest link to the Mrs. is our recent car trip listening to her hubby’s memoirs. I do feel a good bit closer to Bill after that (what woman doesn’t) but can’t say I know Hillary any better than he does.
What I find most shocking in your absence, however, is how uninteresting this little ‘burb of ours has become. Except for R who has rescued me from near oblivion with a night of cocktails (a tradition begun with you and to which we shall return unless a suitable replacement is found in your absence), I have found very few souls worthy of my very needy companionship. And none of them have cherubs reaching nearly the din of our own, dear P.
In short, I have found no one to share a cosmo in the park nor anyone willing to rush off on a moment’s notice for a quick (and perhaps dirty) pedi/manicure. I long for your return, if you’ll have me still, and hope any lingering resentment quickly passes. I promise to give up all criticism of you I have developed in your absence as soon as you present the many gifts you always manage to bring from London. I will then be very pleased to forgive your failure to attend to my many concerns this past month very quickly indeed.
Faithfully (From This Point Forward),
C.
