I spent my day scrubbing the house clean and watching two dudes remove the motherlode of fall leaves from my front and back yards. Nothing particularly romantic about either of those things but I felt three thousand percent better when it was all over. It was like my house had been excavated all of a sudden. Icing on the cake? When the fella arrived home with these pretty things in hand and told me we had reservations at Brooklyn Bridge. He kept his monkey suit on while I got ready and then we paired up and looked smashing, if I may say so myself. Then we went and stuffed ourselves with delicious Italian cheesiness and wine. During conversation (between peeks at the television over the bar), he managed to keep his overwhelming lust for the Royal Furniture girl to a dull roar, and I did not curse too loudly, spill anything, or make wildly offensive jokes.
Ahhhhh, that’s amore.