Yesterday, Dean said that a friend of his was coming and to not bother with whether or not the RSVP card comes in. Today, my mom said to make a note in my spreadsheet that both my parents and two sets of aunts and uncles would also be coming. “You don’t need the RSVP card. This email is fine.”
No, it’s not fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so hard. You don’t have to put a postage stamp on the damned thing. You don’t have to pickup the phone and tell me. You don’t even have to go to an Evite website and mark your attendance. Letting me know whether or not you are coming means dropping off a postcard at your nearest mailbox. Not even your nearest post office, but the nearest blue box. They’re practically on every single corner here in the Financial District.
I made it very clear. No postcard means you’re not coming. If you can’t be bothered to drop it off, I can’t be bothered to spend $150 on you. Simple enough.