Hi Kara, me again.

I was looking for a plastic bag to keep all our garbage in and take home with us when we leave, because I didn't think you'd want to come home to a house smelling like baby shit. I found your bag cupboard. I could tell it was where the bags are kept because there were a couple of plastic bag corners squished out the bottom of the door.

WHY DIDN'T YOU WARN ME ABOUT THIS CUPBOARD?

As soon as I opened it, I got hit in the head with a broom, and then buried alive in plastic bags. I spent close to an hour trying to shove all these bags into this ridiculous skinny little cupboard, and then wedge the broom back in to keep them all contained, but I could not do it. It must be a skill that ONLY YOU possess. How on earth do you keep all these bags contained? How do you manage to get your broom out without being assaulted by little knotted plastic bags?

Anyway, I had to give up, because the act of jamming these little bags in this tall skinny cupboard and then somehow getting the broom in there too and then shutting the door is an act that defies physics, and too complicated for my milk-mushy brain to figure out. So I'm going to have to leave them on your kitchen counter for you to deal with. SORRY!

Also, we finished your vodka. I''m sorry. There was only a swallow in it, but still. We should replace it. Before arriving here last night we were driving around trying to get our screaming baby to shut the hell up. (Apparently he HATES the car now.)
We drove around for about half an hour, grinding our teeth while we listened to what sounded like a gorilla being maimed, before I finally figured out, "HEY, maybe he doesn't like the car." So we came right here, and then he shut right up. But we were both so wound up and jittery, the first thing we did was locate the vodka. I'm sorry. I hope you understand.


Things I forgot to bring:

deodorant.
bra.

I only worry about this because it MAY attract unwanted hippies...