I'm delighted to announce a new feature here at Fresh Hell HQ - Reader Mail!

Our first letter is from an anonymous reader** (well I know who it is, but play along with me kids). After a little judicious nip and tuck (edited for content and clarity, and to protect identities of all), I present:

Dear Mr. Fresh Hell:

Tired of the swelling tide of clutter in the guest room? Well, you can do nothing about it. You can, however, have some wicked fun.

I offer this suggestion for a bit of snark, which will slowly germinate, ripen and then blossom forth to enrage your domestic engineer.

During my recent visit to my son, I provided a lot of help in his move to a new place: putting up shelves, unpacking boxes, etc.. While surveying the epicenter of this storm of stuff, my son’s office, I had an epiphany.

I moved a stack of boxes of books, account statements & office supplies to the center of that room. One can’t go to the desk, the couch or the door without stepping over this heap! I placed a post-it note on the carpet, reading “When you find this, call me. Love, Dad. 2PM May 19th.”, and then set the heap back atop it.

This being an item of great potential embarrassment, I showed my booby-trap to my wife and his who both agreed (in so many words), that I was a genius.

And now I wait. Three weeks, and counting. Snark, like revenge, is a dish best served cold.

Sincerely,
A Concerned Citizen in Search of Domestic Cleanliness

I don't wish to embarrass our Concerned Citizen (yet Citizen of all people must know that true Fresh Hell consists of the writer finding a way to regurgitate every word ever written to her) so in the interest of fairness I reproduce here, after similar pruning of relevant identifying information, my reply:

Dear Concerned Citizen:

Oy. Your dastardly plan to save your son from his own stuff is genius, I must say. But you seem to have gotten things a little skewered in the Fresh Hell household – if there is a person who needs to have a note affixed to the bottom of a pile, it is the Mr. rather than the Mrs.!

Mr. FH is the one holding onto a box full of empty envelopes (I shit you not) amongst other assorted nonsense relevant to and/or dating back to 1994. He likes to cling to useless items on the off chance it might somehow become useful – it’s almost a Depression era mentality, although in his case more like Third World thriftiness.

Do let me know when the kid finally calls!

Cordially,

The Mistress, Fresh Hell HQ

**Please note that I have not asked Anonymous Reader whether or not this letter could be published (published?) in such a well known and hugely read blog (the whole world is watching, or are they?). I've just gone and done it. If Anonymous Reader is supremely pissed off, I'm positive I'll find out and this nifty little feature debuting so chirpily will go by the wayside. But if Anonymous Reader grudgingly agrees that the gist of this charming letter has been faithfully re-created without pertinent identifying details that would either cause embarrassment, stalkers, or visits by Homeland Security, then I look forward to sacks of Reader Mail, which can be directed to the following email address: fresh-hell@hotmail.com

Each letter will be properly edited and a reply posted.