dear bambi,
im too tired to write to you about the sugar frosted cocktails and sequened covered bed speads i dream about. the books have fallen off my shelf and buried me alive. all i want now is the life of a housewife. and i promise you i will learn to cook real good and clean real good. oh bambi. things are looking so grey. you are the only song that makes me smile these days.
love, huckleberry
