I cannot begin to tell you how cruel Kat is. Each letter brings new tortures. The last one brought news of a sprained ankle that apparently has now healed. The latest one is worse. It contains a separate note to Day-Hay with specific directions to me not to peek. The curiosity is killing me.

Knowing full well what she was doing, Kat didn�t stop with telling me not to peek. In her trademark pink ink, she wrote on the cover of the note to Danielle,�Do not peek� in large letters multiple times. She didn�t exactly write �This means YOU, Mom� but she might as well have. Dire warnings aren�t necessary for Mr. Philately and she knows it. One of his deepest character flaws is his high moral standards (at least in this circumstance.)

If Day-Hay were here, I�d probably be fine. I�d give the note to her in pristine condition quickly before giving into temptation and then I would spend the rest of the day and perhaps part of tomorrow convincing her to share it with me. Although Day-Hay is one of the most stubborn people I know, I�m one of the sneakiest. After she had gotten lots and lots of mileage out of the power she held over me, she�d give in to the pleasures of sharing a secret. But Day-Hay�s not here and won�t be here until Friday night.

Mr. Philately has made it quite clear just how disappointed he�ll be in me if I cheat. I like to think of myself as honorable. I usually am. But I could make an exception. All I need is a good self-justification. I�d look now but I haven�t come up with my excuse yet.

You would think that a criminal defense attorney would have a good excuse or two that she could borrow from her clients but I don�t. Many of their excuses are just too lame for high-class unethical behavior. I need something better than �because it was there� or �I dunno why.� I need something more elegant. I need something more like the answer of the guy who was asked why he climbed into his girlfriend�s window with a knife in his hand. �Well,� answered the guy. �If I put the knife in my pocket, I�d have cut myself.�

If only she had put the thing in its own envelope. Out of sight, mainly out of mind. I�m going right into that kitchen and put it in an envelope to preserve my honor and dignity. I�m marching right in there and.....Oh, never mind, I can�t even find the thing. Mr. Philately apparently has spirited it away to some hiding place.

I just don�t understand why he doesn�t trust me.

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