Tonight I got home freakishly late, got my mail, and in flipping through it was excited to see an envelope with handwriting on it. Handwriting! Which means a letter! To me! Right??
Wrong. True, I shouldn't be too upset about this, since by all laws of correspondence you typically don't get letters if you don't send any letters yourself, but it was disappointing.
"Wait, what was it," you ask, "if not a letter?"
Well, it was a letter. Of sorts. Apparently the Jehovah's Witnesses don't just have to go door-to-door, they can also send letters. So then I was disappointed and sad.
Now I'm going to try to sleep. Hopefully the fan in my room means it isn't 84 degrees there anymore.
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