Dear Soup Peddler Matzoh Ball Soup,
I am about to request something huge and difficult from you. This has been a hard day. The computer system at work crashed for over an hour, I stepped in dog poo, and some stupid confused young dude from Chase Bank called me about a business certificate application I hadn't made. (Should I worry about identity theft, I asked? Only if I call you back tomorrow, he replied.)
Also, Logan's been working out of town for ten days now and the cats yowl their lonely displeasure at me whenever it occurs to them that he's gone. Thanks for the reminder, cats. Like I hadn't noticed every second of every day.
So, matzoh ball soup, can you make it all better for a little while? I can offer you some friendly backup in the form of a sprinkling of Erin and Nat's home-grown cilantro and a glass of nero d'avola. I'm hoping between the three of you, you'll be able to civilize this red-eyed she-beast who bit the head off of her poor suffering husband from 1,400 miles away.
(Sorry, Husbear. I wish you were here to share a bowl of soup with me.)