To: Our Beloved Guests
RE: The Crapfest Weather of the Last Several Days Which Has Led to Unappreciated Variances in What You Expect Out of Life
First and foremost, I must thank you for your generous patience as we work our way through this wretchedly woeful wallop. Said patience is even more remarkable considering many of you are trapped in your bungalow enclaves scattered across the rolling hills of Bonnywood Manor, unable to get to any of the libation stations strategically-placed in the various gaiety grottoes in our complex. It’s often difficult to remain complacent when the sloe gin is slow in coming.
Second and mid-most, rest assured that we are doing our very best to brighten the dreary bother that existence has become since the ice started falling from the sky. Of course, our benevolent machinations have not been easy, what with supply lines becoming questionable and (in what is apparently becoming a sad American tradition) some dubious folks rushing out and snatching up every available item at their local CostCo, hoarding such with incomprehensible inconsideration. (In the parlance of the younger generation: “Get over yourself. You’re not all that.” I would have chosen other words, as I prefer much more verbosity, but my sentiments are the same.)
Third and aft-most, we may or may not have been forced to contact unsavory underworld types in order to obtain the things we need to make your time at Bonnywood a high-quality experience worth savoring. I trust that you will be discreet with my honest revelation, choosing to look the other way when the chocolate mint on your pillow appears to be bootleg in nature and refrain from alerting important Pillow-Topping Regulatory Officials. There’s really no need to get all whistle-blowy during a time of hospitality crisis, yes? Mutually-scratched backs, if you’ll allow such a concept and imagery.
Until Bonnywood Manor is once again able to provide the full extent of the quality service you expect from our historic and mildly-surreal Art Deco halls, we plan to cushion the blow of unrequited snow with a few complimentary compensations. You will not be assessed any charges for your stay from the time the first annoying ice pellet fell to the moment when the last pellet is shunned from our society. You will not be held responsible, should you throw something of minor-value against the wall of your bungalow, frustrated that you can’t have brunch with Muffy and Constance. (As you can see in the opening photo of this email, the Main Dining Room has been deemed non-essential during this weather travesty, much to the horror of you and your carefully-chosen Entrance Couture.)
And finally, in what I hope is the purest sign of how much we treasure your patronage, we have a surprise for you. Stand up from the exquisite Beaux Art desk at which you are reading this email on the laptop in your lock-down bungalow, walk over to the Georges Seurat post-impressionist painting on the wall near the grand piano, take said painting off the wall (carefully, as the painting is not considered minor-value and you will be charged for throwing damages) and gaze upon the hidden safe.
Enter the code 7734.
Open the safe and peruse the copious stock of liquor and juice bottles, all of them brimming, nothing watered down. Feel better?
You see, here at Bonnywood, we plan for the unexpected. Unlike the power-grid regulators in Texas who are apparently stunned by the fact that it can get cold in the winter.
I trust said treasure trove will tide you over for the next few days. We’ll talk soon.
Owner and Whimsy-Enabler of Bonnywood Manor
Note: First, thank you to the lovely folks who have been checking up on me during this crapfest weather in Texas, and the resulting, stunning ineptitude of state officials that has led to so many people being cold in the dark. Love it that you did, really do. Second, because Partner and I are doing our best to limit any impact on the unsteady power grid, we don’t turn nuthin’ on unless we need to do so. This means that I’ve been basically offline for several days now and I am woefully behind with emails and comment responses and fresh posts and, well, everything.
Not that any of that matters. I’m much more concerned with the comfort and safety of the common folk dealing with the fallout of careless and reckless politicians who just don’t give a damn. Another sad American, and specifically Texan, tradition. Until everyone is warm again, I’ll be mostly AWOL.
But I can assure you that the Georges Seurat painting has been ripped off that wall and the bottles in the safe are not as full as they used to be.
Cheers, Part II.