“Do you know what you’d like?” the bartender asked, pausing briefly to lean in toward me.
I pushed the plastic-coated playbook of a menu away from me. “Which of the two pinots is the least gross?” I asked. I knew I sounded obnoxious, but I couldn’t help it – and besides, she did smile a little [read more ...]
To say that I like routine is an understatement. Just ask Stu. It took me weeks before I was comfortable staying over at his place for lack of having all of my “stuff” around. (“But really, darling,” he argued, “You’ll probably sleep just fine without your favorite pink socks and designated cereal spoon.”)
Left to my [read more ...]
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