In my previous post, I bloviated about the beginnings of my letter writing adventures. Almost ten years went by before I took another stab at it, during which time I developed a rich emotional maturity and accomplished a number of remarkable life achievements .
Then one day, while sitting alone in my pajamas at 3pm, depressed by the rampant lack of truth in that previous sentence, a whimsical wind of inspiration struck me and I composed a letter to my spirit-restaurant, Chipotle.
A few weeks later, I got a letter from Chipotle in the mail. It read:
When I got this, it gave me tingles in my naughty parts. Fun as it was though, the thought didn't strike me to write more letters like this until about a year or so later. That next letter, and the response it received, is what made me decide to take this whole thing up as a semi-regular hobby. Next week, on Serial.