Dearest Mother of the Year,

whose children are so handsome and bake such lovely cakes with you (by the way, did you make the decorative carrot on the carrot cake yourself? Or was it a pre-prepared, shop-bought, cheaty one?),

It's the drugs talking again. Antipo is groggy and uncommunicative this morning. She is also feeling irritated because, having got gussied up in a skirt and heels in honour of an American VIP potential client who is coming for a meeting this afternoon, she realises her pantyhose are very old and suffering elasticity loss. She has discovered there is nothing more annoying than a sagging gusset, even if nobody can see it. This is why she prefers jeans, socks and boots.

Also, some pig-headed and utterly selfish workmen have dug up the entire approach to her office, so she had to pick her way gingerly through mud and rubble in said heels this morning, and will need to spend some time in the ladies' removing mud from the pretty shoes.

Also, the colleagues apparently deemed the office too smelly or something, and she arrived (late) to work to find all windows and doors wide open, and a howling gale ripping through the building.

She sincerely hopes your day is getting off to a better start.

Love and Self-Pity kisses,
Toplexil Again

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P.S. She did however have a lovely dream about The Handsome Greek. We'll call him Zorba for now.