Publisher's Clearing House

If August 31st passes without the appearance of a van with camera-wielding, flower-toting, check-bearing, Publisher’s Clearing House emblazoned people, I will be supremely disappointed. Seriously.

I have dutifully responded to every Publisher’s Clearing House email, even fishing some of them out of my junk mailbox where MacMail, with all good intentions, keeps sending them. I have “Transferred” meaningless, virtual “Labels”, “Confirmed” and “Submitted” countless entries. I have scrolled through pages and pages and pages of ads for strange inventions to clean things; organize things; grow things; and more ads for just THINGS. I even purchased one of those “magic” screens for my front door, with magnets that make it shut again after you walk through it (most of the time; occasionally needs guidance, gentle detachment from my metal front door - I didn't know it was metal -, or searching for and reattaching the three-piece magnet-plus-housing unit that tries to escape from its responsibilities), keeping my home freer from summer bugs than it has ever been.

I have been diligent, increasing my odds with every minute spent reading these LONG missives. I deserve this. If someone who submitted a single entry wins the $5000 a week for life, I will be upset.

I have a wedding to go to on Friday night so, PCH Team, please come early. I promise, I will give you a clip worth airing. I will be shocked, disbelieving, skeptical even, but ultimately thrilled beyond measure. I will CRY. No bland Midwesterner I. I will give you a full range of emotion that will please your editor and delight your commercial viewing audience. I am an excellent actress with full access to my feelings. I won’t even take my Lexapro until after your visit so I make sure to experience the highs (and lows) of the emotional spectrum. Be warned, however, that I will be keenly experiencing those lows so, if you DON’T come, and I get a little more than average depressed, I may sue you.

See you on August 31st.