Do you remember that time in highschool when we each agreed to marry each other if we didn’t find anyone by the time were, what, 30? Yeah, that was dumb. I got hitched at 22 and I’m pretty sure you took the plunge round about 26 – right? Did we really mean it, I mean did we really thing two fab folks such as ourselves would stay unattached for long? And if it happened that we (unbelievably) didn’t get snapped up by lucky suitors, did we really expect to make good on our plan? Really?

You see Paul, you and I aren’t very good at making contracts (and since you’re a lawyer, I hold you more accountable), marriage or otherwise. Apparently. Once again we made plans to have dinner, and once again- nothing. What’s wrong with us? Are we destined to neither marry no enjoy food together in the same room at the same time?  

I’m trying to figure out if it’s more embarrassing that we forgot about our dinner for a second time in a row, or that it was a week ago and it’s being acknowledged for the first time now.

We’re dumb.

In the spirit of The Games, I think we should set for ourselves the Olympic challenge of making and carrying out plans. We have 16 days – you in?

p.s. The renovation is awesome. There’s waaaaay more knob and tube than our insurance allows, asbestos (just a wee bit, it was removed), joists that need sistering because another “contractor” was a little too liberal with a saw, and yet, we are pleased as punch: our new contractor is so super-cool our cheeks hurt from smiling. Thank you other contractor for screwing us, it’s just what we needed.

p.p.s.: I’m recovering from the stomach flu (I know, apparently I’m a harbinger of disease these days). I have pictures of pre-demo, post-demo, framing, you name it. But the visuals are stuck inside my camera, and I’m afraid I’ll barf if I have to walk upstairs and get it.