Today I was looking around the garage for a pair of gardening gloves when I spotted a card. It was already opened, and it was placed in hubby’s pile of shit. Since it looked like it was for me, I opened it up and read it.

This was a letter from my dear mother, in memory of Rochelle, Rochelle.

When I sent her a text, she wrote back: Looks like they sent it too soon.

Now, I know deep down there was no Freudian slip, she wanted to donate to the cancer society in honor of my good health… which still seems a bit odd. Well, she wanted to donate and perhaps the cancer people made a mistake, but… seeing this prior to my actual death was something.

Needless to say, there’ll be no more donations of any kind to their plight. Fuck ’em.