I hope everyone had a wonderful Independence Day holiday. The ever-patriotic Mrs. E and I certainly enjoyed our evening at the West Franklin block party. At least until it ended with a trip to the emergency room. It seems that I passed out.
I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. In fact, I only had a few glasses of champagne after the traditional grilled meat fest of a dinner. No, my swan dive was precipitated by a combination of exercise, lack of stress and a high-blood pressure medication. I may be cured of the need for the meds…. my BP was a chilly 106/53. Let’s hear it for yoga…
All of which brings me to my topic: the note of apology.
There are times when you just have to face up to the fact that you behaved like an ass, or were too clumsy with an heirloom or didn’t realize that she was your hostess’ daughter… The morning after calls for one of two face-saving gestures, a phone call or a note. Nothing fancy, a simple:
Please accept my most sincere apologies for ruining your beautiful dress. I’m sure that the dry cleaner will be able to get the stains out.
Will you please allow me to pay for the cleaning? Just drop the bill in the mail and I’ll be happy to write a check. In fact, I insist on it as I’ll feel less of a clumsy idiot.
My humblest apologies and many thanks for the evening, C.
So for all those “party’s over, there’s a Shriner in the punch” moments, begin the morning after on a more graceful note.