An Open Letter to My High School Reunion Planning Committee
I was planning on coming to the reunion this year, especially since it is a big reunion with one of those milestone-sounding numbers. However, it turns out that due to your late notification of the event, I won’t be able to make it after all.
How dare you send out the invitations a mere six weeks before the event?! What were you thinking? Six weeks is not enough time for me to lose 20 pounds, get a great haircut, purchase a whole new wardrobe, go to med school, become a doctor, and buy a fancy car. Well, it might be enough time to get the haircut, but that is about it.
While you are there reminiscing about finals and proms and track meets, I will be slaving away at the high-end kitchen store. While you are sipping your third glass of wine (most likely from your own personal vineyard that you opened in Napa, natch), I might be forced to sample some chocolate cupcakes if we are making them for a baking class. While you are laughing at some clever joke someone just told, I will be laughing at the lady who is trying to return her espresso machine she bought eight years ago (without a receipt).
So, no, I won’t be able to make it this year. But I will definitely come to the one in ten years. I’ll be the one wearing scrubs.