Dear Mom,
It’s hard to find non gluten-free cookies here in San Francisco. My co-workers are weird. My college friends won’t let me eat their leftovers. My boyfriend’s in New York. I’m lonely and cold. Please send long underwear.
My house doesn’t have heat and it feel like the winter will never end. It’s hard to get up in the morning because the world feels like ice and my nose and heart are cold, and we already ate the good snacks at work and the next Costco shipment isn’t for weeks. I don’t want to buy a space heater because I’m afraid it’ll blow out the fuses in my room. Please send long underwear. Also, if you have a vacuum cleaner you don’t really want, you could send that along too.
A co-worker mentioned to me that San Franciscans seem to be more friendly, less judgmental, and happier than the people of New York City. I’m not sure if that means anything to you, considering neither of us are from New York or have spent significant amounts of time there, but I thought that if maybe you’re talking to one of your friends who wants to know what San Francisco is like and has spent a lot of time in New York, that might be something you could say to them. You could also tell them that it’s really cold here.
My two thin jackets aren’t enough to keep the mild cold from sinking into my body and making a fool out of this girl that went to school in Boston. My friends make fun of me and I feel silly complaining about the chilliness. I wrote a blog post about this already, but I’m not sure you knew how much this affects my life.
If this goes on for much longer, I’m going to go on a long underwear buying spree that’s certain to end poorly. I’m looking forward to seeing you in April, and to receiving long underwear from you.
Love always,
Emily
Snotting black 