Please calm down. Don’t get hysterical. I promised to take care of you for as long as we both shall live. So I’m not going to step down, and if I do, I will expect you to continue to support me in the manner to which your success has me accustomed.

You complain that I do not appreciate the beauty that you bring to our lives. But you must know that I am always bragging to everyone how stunning you were when we met. A looker, with big bright hills, musically accomplished, and the vocabulary of a sailor. I even recently made a series of videos to show the world how attractive you were, all smelling of freshly dried laundry and salt fish.

And your cooking! Wow. You have gone above and beyond the past few years. Top notch. Even my friends from away have been saying so. I know times are tough and costs are high, margins slim, but you are so resourceful. Just look what you’ve done with some game, cod and a few berries! I have faith you will find a way to keep it up with a tightened belt. After all, the tighter the belt, the easier I find ‘keeping it up’! lol.

That reminds me, remember when I got my Broski from Port Authority to dress up like a rabid despot and he and I “fenced off your harbour”? God that was sexy. I loved watching him restrict your movements so everyone could dock without fear of interference. That was so worth the half million I promised you would pay him.

The thing is though, you are getting old. You are still beautiful, and your venerable age only increases your (and therefore my) cultural cred internationally, but it makes everything more difficult. There are all these parts of you I’m not supposed to touch now.

And I know I haven’t plowed you like I should, or like you deserve to be plowed. But you were just nagging me so much about it, you wouldn’t shut up. And then, I’m not complaining but, you were cold, frigid even, all last summer. I’m just saying that it is only fair, given how much I like to spend, that you pay a larger percentage of my expenses, whether I’m plowing you or not.

I need you to understand that I am saying all of this because I love you. It is for your own good. You are so worked up right now, You need to take a breath and let me handle this. Shhhhhh.

Love always and forever,

Your Council

PS: From now on, if you clog the toilet, call a damn plumber. I know I said I would do it since I was the one who decided to plumb the house using tar-paper and old terracotta in the first place, and then it was me who refused to upgrade during subsequent renovations. But I needed that money for the faux antique street lamps for our new garden and a second gazebo. But now the toilet is clogging all the time and I wear white collared shirts. Your poo is your problem. You could stand to eat less anyway. Have you heard what people have be calling you?