They can't take that away from me

Dear Thursday,

I'm writing to let you know how much I feel you've let me down: the tiredness, the slowness, the cold weather and the missing going for a walk. I'm especially disappointed that despite putting so much effort into making a loaf of bread you decided to have that go tits up for me too. How you could take such a lovingly-kneaded, well-risen dough and turn it into THAT is beyond me!
I'm not impressed with the way you made the sun go in just as I tried to jolly myself up and go outside with my camera, I'm unhappy with the timing of the backache you delivered me when I had plans to plant some lavender and rosemary. And to place those zits on my face and neck at my age is just pure spite.

But while you weren't looking and I had retreated indoors with my camera, my cold aching body and my glum face - and you were laughing at me and basking in your glory, you missed the happy potato. Well. I saw it. And I smiled at it. And I photographed it.

So ner!

You can't even get me with a crying 8-yr-old at 8pm. No, Thursday. You took away every cup of tea and made it cold, you took away the sun and made it cold, you took away my ability to feel I'd achieved anything today. But you can't take away the memory of a smiling potato.

You lose, Thursday. You lose.

I win.

Yours vaingloriously,

Rachel


P.S. That's Tess's handwriting not mine.