My Dearest Daughter,
It seems that just yesterday I was writing to you in Guatemala - and, yes, I was as proud as a mother could be.
But now that you've returned to the States, my darling, I need to ask you one teenie, tiny question . . .
Where the hell are you????
As I waved goodbye to you when the last of your laundry was done on Wednesday afternoon, you led me to believe that you and your beloved little car (what did you name that car anyway?) were headed in a northerly direction to return to Connecticut for your last semester of college.
Now I can see from the trail your debit card leaves, that instead, you headed southbound. And word on the street is that you may be crashing on your cousin's couch in a unnamed town on the Chesapeake where a certain Midshipman attends the Naval Academy.
And, knowing you like I do, I'm quite sure your little I-can-change-the-world attitude has led you to believe that you can bop on over to D.C. (where you have another cousin with a couch) for a certain presidential inauguration.
Your intentions may be noble, my darling, but I foresee one small problem. . . . (you do know I'm psychic, don't you?)
When your father finds out you have not yet reported for spring semester, he will rip that precious car away from you quicker than you can say "Silly Macaroon!"
If you do not have a car at school, my darling, you will be forced to walk the two uphill miles from your beach house to campus each day! What's worse, you will not be able to get that elusive part-time job that you have been promising since September - the proceeds of which would provide you with some spending money and help to offset the costs of letting you live upon this earth.
And another thing. . . you should be aware of the fact that permit girl is scheduled to get her driver's license in less than three weeks. As you know, she would be more-than-happy to take that car off of your hands, and will be doing everything she can to add fuel the fire on the homefront in your absence.
Oh, and in case you were wondering . . . I have miraculously eeked out just enough money from your college savings plan to pay for this last semester. There is no more where that came from.
Zip! Zero! Zilch!
(It's Trigger Finger Girl's turn to go to college next, and I have vowed that no financial meltdown will come between me and TFG's departure from the nest.)
And so, my dear, I strongly suggest you hop into that little (damn it, what did you name that car anyway???) and head straight up 95 - not pausing (well, unless the police are chasing you) until you hit the Connecticut state border.
With all wishes for a speedy and safe journey, I remain. . . .
Your Loving Mother
p.s. While staying at your cousin's house, please remember to follow the bathroom etiquette I posted earlier in the week - especially the part about shower hairballs.
Just saying. . .
