Don’t Come To Martha’s Vineyard — It’s Horrible Here

I’m writing this electronic missive from my wife’s office on the second floor.
I would normally sit in mine — on the third, but we were invaded by blood-sucking mosquitoes last week, and I smashed one of these little pests on the west wall. It left a disgracing bloody trace at least an inch wide, which means the whole room needs renovation.
And I can’t find anyone.
Nobody’s free before four weeks at least. Can you imagine? I’m not sure we’ll survive this inhumane situation for so long. These are dire conditions my family hasn’t experienced for decades, maybe centuries.
Please send your thoughts and prayers.
As I sit upstairs, my wife had to move her business center to the winter garden — she sells NFTs of our old masters’ painting collection online. The excess of light on her computer screen is unbearable. She has to wear designer sunglasses that were not designed for computer usage.
I fear her eyesight could dramatically suffer.
The cat is, of course, totally disoriented. At this time of the year, he usually can enjoy solitary peaceful rests in the winter garden for his afternoon nap. It’s a small room, barely seven hundred square feet. The poor thing must feel harshly oppressed by such an invasion of his personal space.
Alas, poor Yorick!
Even though his pedigree traces him back to the late Queen’s first corgi — don’t ask, we called him Yorick as he loves playing tricks on us.
But I digress.
I hope this short electronic parchment will convince you to rearrange your travel plans in the nearest future. Don’t come to Martha’s Vineyard — it’s horrible here. HORRIBLE. I cannot stress it enough.
I would feel extremely sorry if you were to find yourself in such a distressing situation as ours.
Unfortunately, we are stuck here for fiscal reasons — I’m sure you’ll understand, but you’re free to go wherever you want, and that’s priceless. Please, enjoy life for us. It has so much to offer in all the places that are not Martha’s Vineyard.
I wanted to end this note with the expression of my distinguished regards, but, alas, there’s nothing much distinguished in my current state of affairs.
And my wife tells me it’s now customary to end such messages with what she calls a CTA. I’m not sure what that means, but I recommend visiting her website and — maybe — acquiring an NFT or two, should your financial situation allows. If you’re “short on cash” as youngsters say these days, I would like to recommend my bank. From what I heard, we offer very profitable usury rates.
With my respectful plea to avoid Martha’s Vineyard, please accept my not-so-distinguished regards.
