The other day I arrived home with a message to deliver to my twins.  I had been mentally clutching it all afternoon, and since this was the first time I laid eyes on them since breakfast it came out before hello. 

"I need you to finish clearing the table of your project so I can set it before company comes."

"Nice to see you too." 

Really? I could not manage a quick interchange about how babysitting went? Or how they are feeling about the upcoming camp? 

One time I saw a friend who lives across the country. We went out for brunch, and the words that spilled out of my mouth were mostly a diatribe about things that will not matter in seventy two hours. I probably won't see her again for a year at least. Yet I chose to clutter our visit with complaints.

Hand written letters are more scarce than they used to be. But when I do write them I am inclined to chose topics that are worthy of a stamp. 

Maybe I could pretend that it costs a dollar every time I speak to John. Then I would be more inclined to skip over the nagging and get to the good part.