Mush, mush, mush, mush.
That’s what it’s like around here these days.
Though there was some talk about whipping someone with wet spaghetti.
And we have two, count them two couples therapy sessions this week, (Final sayonara to the Stork and trying out someone new we can’t afford because she wants us to do our own insurance billing…what is WITH these people?).
Yesterday my partner texted me: “I love you. OMG, intimacy!”
I texted her back: “Me 2. I mean I hate you 4ever.”
She reported later that she laughed very loudly in the middle of a silent writing exercise in her how-to-do-therapy workshop. (My partner texts during her therapy workshop! There may be hope for her yet!)
I would also like to state, for the record, that I am very disappointed that not a single person voted on whether or not we’d have the big blowout fight.
But I bet you could guess who it was that brought up the wet spaghetti idea.
5 days and counting.
I think it’s now just a question of how creatively neurotic we become as the 25 year mark inches its way toward us.
Answer: VERY. CREATIVELY. NEUROTIC.