Hard as it may be to believe, given that my mother died in 2002, the fact remains that 2008 was pretty much the worst year of my life. I won't go into detail, since this memo is directed at 2009, but take my word for it--2008 was truly dreadful. So I would just like to say this:
Dear 2009,
Do not even think about it.
I see that you are already trying to mess with two of my best friends, and you can just cut it out. I had better not see any further medical issues in anyone's family that matters to me. (N.B. This includes my own family!) No death, no serious injury, no hospitalizations. Oh, and no mental/emotional issues, either.
Mind you, I'm not saying I want to win the lottery or be promoted to president of my company. All I want from you, 2009, is a nice, unassuming little year. Twelve pleasant months. You can even throw in a couple of nuisances; I'm not greedy. I would just like a year during which I do not feel an overwhelming need to curl up in the fetal position and stay in bed for 52 weeks.
Thanks for your kind cooperation in this matter.
Best regards,
Kate
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