“What do you want to eat tonight?” she said, leaving it up to me. Whatever I wanted to make, in other words. That’s how we ended up with apple pancakes and bacon in the living room. After a hard day of screwing around on Twitter and Medium (marketing!), hosing the ants off the hummingbird feeders, and avoiding calling the mortgage broker, I was ready for some comfort food. Turns out the lady has an email address, by the way.
I’m such a wimp. That’s what the dermatologist called me. I was in the room where he was doing eyelid surgery on my wife. “You wanna see?” he asked before he stitched her back together. I knew he was proud of his work, but I said no and pissed him off. He goes diving in the South Pacific. There’s a fish tank in the wall.