So Says The Mouse In My Hair

My Secret Admirer

So here’s the thing. I understand that you are not mind readers. And I would never, EVER randomly expect you to cater to my wishes without telling you what they are. It’s not fair to you. So I’ll just dive in.

Every once in a while we come up with these ideas about things that we’d like to happen, that depend upon others. Example, I might see a really gorgeous necklace in a window to drool over. But I can’t buy it for myself. Why? It’s an ethical question. To buy jewelry for yourself is cheating. Therefore, I only get to walk by this necklace everyday and dream of the circumstances surrounding my eventual acquisition. (Random note, why is it that I can never use just one word with more than 3 syllables? They always seem to come in whole sentences. Must get back to my Strunk and White.)

But I did not write this blog to explain to you about the necklace I’m drooling over in the window of Days Jewelers in Bangor. This is about my secret admirer.

"What, Sarah, you’ve got a secret admirer? That’s so sweet! Who s it?"

First of all, if I knew that, it wouldn’t be secret, so stop asking questions to which you already know the answers.

Secondly, no, I don’t have a secret admirer. That’s the problem. I’m missing out on a veritable institution of the American Dream sub-dream romantic notions. Now, I’ve managed , happily I might add, to clear away oodles of romantic notions from my poor, fairy taled head. But this one isn’t going anywhere.

And so I’m asking for your help. All of you. Any of you. Won’t you please be my secret admirer? Because Valentines Day is coming up, I know because there’s all kinds of pink and red boxes in grocery stores and drug stores and department stores, easily accessible to any at-least-partially-mobile being. Please? And I just need the one box of chocolate covered cherries (this year’s please, not last thank you) on my doorstep with the little red paper heart attached that says "Sweets for my sweet, Sarah Eliza. From your secret admirer." Or something along those lines.

Is this just a ruse for me to wheedle a box of chocolate covered cherries from an unsuspecting public? Quite possible, but I’ll tell you a secret. Shhhhh.

I don’t think it’s going to work.

So you don’t have to feel bad. I promise.

posted by Sarah Eliza @ 1:08 PM