Letters to Inanimate Objects 3/7

Listening to My Funny Valentine by THE Frank Sinatra (Love that man.)
Craving sushi from that lovely place on the square. 
    I was very close to doing this post earlier in the week - last week, that is - because things just kept HAPPENING and verbal letters were composed left and right. But it wasn't until tonight that I remembered a few of them, so here they are!

Dear little bottle of ginger in the spice cabinet,

    I get it. You're almost completely full. Still. I know you're a tad left out up there in the spice cabinet, on the rack with all the frequently used-spices. And I don't care if they do make fun of you, that's no reason to throw yourself from such a height. Onto my lunch. Twice. I'm sorry, but it wouldn't have worked out between the two of you anyways; goat cheese and ginger? That's like onions and chocolate, just a terrible mistake. Take some advice from the expert here and wait for The One. He'll probably be Asian.

Dear chapstick,

    Obviously you find this funny, this messed-up version of hide-and-seek you're playing. If you haven't noticed, I'm still seeking, and I called "Olly-olly-oxen-free." Why is it that you find it so convenient to hide whenever I need you? My chapped lips are not amused. 

Dear Tresor in Love from Lancome,

    You smell like heaven on a breezy afternoon. By a lazy stream in a sun-dappled meadow. Drenched in awesome-sauce with happy-sprinkles. And cinnamon. Because cinnamon is delicious.


    Sincerely,
Sarah Jane