Sorry. I tried to pick a date that would be least inconvenient for you. I was tempted to do this in December, but I drew Jerry’s name for Secret Santa, and I couldn’t stomach the idea of everyone unwrapping their gifts while Jerry got squat.

It’s always a pain when people try to squeeze things in over the holidays, so I held out. I appreciate that this is annoying, no matter the season, and hope you won’t let it ruin your Groundhog Day. I don’t know if a note will make it any better. I figured I should write one just in case it might. I’ll leave it up to you to decide. If you think this will make it worse, burn it. Pretend I never wrote it. Tear it into pieces and flush it down a toilet.

If you decide to read this, please keep in mind it’s my first suicide note, and I’m a bad writer.

By the time you kick the bucket you’re supposed to have wisdom to impart, but I don’t have any. Most people die more experienced or well-read. I did read this book once where a rat goes on a veritable smorgasbord at a fair. He feasts on candy apple cores, salted almonds, and rejected hot dogs. He’s a gluttonous rascal, so he has the time of his life, wolfing down trash until his belly distends and he becomes a fat rat ball.

I’m not sure I’d recommend taking the advice of an uneducated, twenty-year-old dead woman, but if you insist, I might say you should try being like a rat at a fair. To be clear, I don’t mean that you should gorge yourself on carnival garbage. I just think you should try to collect days like that. Do whatever will turn you into a rat ball, so to speak.