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A Personal
Letter to God.

Dear God,

Why did you just do that?  Why?  Oh, don’t play all innocent.  You know what I’m
talking about.  That thing you just did.  To my new sunglasses.  Yeah...“Oh,
that,” my butt.  You can’t fool me.  I know you’re omniscient.

So, anyway: why?  What did I do to deserve the sudden and inexplicable
disintegration of my new eyewear?  Why, upon placing the new eyewear on my
face, did said accessory fall apart – quite literally – before my very eyes?

Now, look, God.  I know I didn’t spend a lot of money on the glasses.  But me
being cheap is not the issue here.  Know why I bought them?  Because they fit.  
They fit really, really well.  And sunglasses, as a rule?  Do not fit me well.  And
the reason why sunglasses do not, as a rule, fit me well, is because of the small
matter of MY EARS, which, for some unknown reason, you decided should be
CROOKED.  On my HEAD.

Oh, come on.  Don’t deny it.  You know how my ears are.  How the left one is like
fourteen inches higher than the right.  Which means that glasses don’t fit,
sunglasses don’t fit.  Earmuffs don’t fit.  Pretty much anything that involves my
ears is crooked.  Crooked is the opposite of straight.

And I’ve tried.  Lord, you know I have tried.  I have bought sunglasses that cost
more than the gross national product of small countries.  I have bought special
wire-framed sunglasses and have tried to bend them to my will.  I have tried,
God, to wear sunglasses that would make you proud of me.  

And then...hallelujah!  Success!  I discovered these lovely, lovely sunglasses,
and they only cost $14, and they were stylish, and they kept the sun out of my
eyes, and most importantly, they were PRE-BENT FOR MY CONVENIENCE.  It
was truly a gift from you.  A gift that was just waiting, discarded and lonely, next
to the checkout counter at the SteinMart.  A gift that others, with straight ears,
had overlooked.  A gift that had appeared to be damaged, because when your
straight-eared children tried on these sunglasses, they found that they did not fit
correctly.  But then, lo, I tried them on, and they were perfect, and I brought them
home, and all was right with the world.

Did I not praise you sufficiently for the heaven-sent glasses?  Did I not genuflect
in thanksgiving?  Or do you prefer to hear my wails of misery, while stuck in
traffic this morning, as BOTH ARMS of my lovely, lovely glasses FELL THE HELL
OFF of the frames?  For what must have been a divine reason, because there
was literally NO EARTHLY EXPLANATION for their demise?  

Anyway, I’m just very disappointed in you.  Very disappointed.  I’ll just let you
think about what you’ve done.  

Oh, and thanks for my health and all of that crap.  See you Sunday.

Love,
Miss Doxie

Dear God, while you're at it, could I
please have some eyes?