I am sorry, dogs, that I can’t take you out at 4 in the morning. Go ahead and pee in the kitchen, see if I care. OK, I do care. But I’m still not taking you out at 4 a.m.
I am sorry, Christmas presents, but if you could please wrap yourselves this year that would go a long way.
I am sorry, housekeeper, that I can’t make the place a little easier to work with when you come every two weeks. I would really, really, like to. I might not have the technical knowledge though. I hope you don’t leave us because we’re too messy.
I am sorry, sweet baby girl, that your clothes, while, clean, are stuffed in your drawer with no apparent organization. I do keep shoes, socks and hats in the bottom, though, if that helps.
I am sorry, husband, that I walk around with mascara smudged under my eyes and my black sweatpants that I originally got for my mom but kept for myself. And that I go to bed much later than you. That is because I am trying to stave off an avalanche of our stuff until every other Wednesday when the housekeeper comes, usually.
I am sorry, shrink, that I stopped going to you after the baby came. I would actually like to speak with you sometimes but I think I should use that money to pay the housekeeper for an extra week.
Here is what I am not sorry about, though. I am not sorry I have an amazing family, a warm cute home albeit small and cluttered, food in the fridge, a smart & talented & beautiful baby, and a husband who brings in a Christmas tree every year without being asked.