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First let me say how sorry I am for starting off the new year with a colonoscopy. I know it's a bummer, especially for you. On the other hand, after it's over later today we'll both be starting out with a clean slate for 2019. I sincerely hope I get the chance to do better in the future.
I'd also like to apologize for the recent abuse you have tolerated over the past few weeks. Like many people, I have used "the holidays" as an excuse to flood you with a lot of bad shit, no pun intended considering where things are today. In particular, I'm sorry for the following insults I forced upon you in the last month of last year, all in the name of said "holidays."
1. Twelve days of bad sweets at our local post office. Some of these were downright disgusting but I ate them anyway since they were Christmas cookies or walnut bread or fudge bars or bourbon balls covered in red and green sprinkles or white frosting or powdered sugar and set out on a pretty platter by some well-meaning (but woefully misguided) neighbor. It's a nice idea but it only works in those fictional New England towns on the Hallmark Channel.
2. Strange and unusual party hors d'oeuvres. It's crazy what some caterers will do to make a name for themselves. In the waning hours of 2018 I encountered some real winners, by which I mean losers. The worst was called a "Mac 'n' Cheese Ball." I should have known this was trouble but I ate one anyway, although in my defense I will remind you that I only had one bite. What was I thinking? A clump of macaroni stuck together with melted cheese and butter, then rolled in breading and deep fried is certainly not a health food. Alas, after ditching that I went for a slice of the "Melted Brie Pie," which looked fabulous. Again, the very first bite rang my alarm bells and I stopped, but you still got that one bite: the formerly warm but now room temperature brie coated with molasses and powdered sugar in a flaky crust sliding all the way through you. Can you ever forgive me?
3. Completely inedible meals eaten to be nice to other people. The truly awful mushroom ravioli in bitter brown sauce. The too-salty Chinese food. The ice-cold baked potato with the dry roast chicken. All chewed and swallowed quickly and sent down for you to deal with. (I'm so ashamed.)
Then came the final insult, wherein you have been forced to ingest 64 ounces of peach-flavored Propel water laced with 8.3 ounces of Miralax powder and a quartet of laxative tablets! Oh, the inhumanity!
I promise Al, if we make it through this whole thing alive I will never, ever mistreat you again. In fact, I may just leave you alone for a few days and let you have some peace and quiet. And thanks for sticking by me all these years.
Love, Droid
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