When I was young, I got the crappiest gifts from my relatives.
Socks. Ugly sweaters. Inedible sugar-free candy.
You know, shit like that.
So, I never wrote thank you notes to them, because I wasn’t going to thank them for crappy gifts.
One year, my mother arranged for everyone to send me packages of thank you notes as gifts.
They were made from heavy stock paper.
Perfect for making paper airplanes.
They kept their shape, and flew longer than simple notebook or copy paper.
I’d have thanked them for the notes, but I used them all up making the airplanes.