An open call for pen pals

At the beginning of winter quarter I realized I had no business paying for a Netflix account since I only ended up watching one movie a month.  I canceled my subscription and sent in my last DVD (Star Trek: season two disc three).

I will no longer boldly go where no man has gone before and address vaguely concealed notions of western human ideals and the American dream.

Then something magical happened.  I stopped receiving baby themed magazines and surveys about motherhood.

In short, I ceased to receive any mail whatsoever.

I still checked my mail once a week.  Then, only every two weeks.  Although I was expecting to find a vacant compartment each time, I still felt the need to check it and slightly sad when I was proven right.

Without Netflix and people who think I’m pregnant to keep me company, visiting the mailbox has been pretty lonely.

So, if you’d like to be my pen pal let me know.  I realize this is the era of hyper fast internet but I like walking to the mailbox and, let’s be real, sometimes it’s the only exercise I get.

I won’t pay for your postage, or treasure your letters in a little cat themed scrap-book, but I promise to write back promptly and with gusto.  I might even include a note from Sesapus.

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