With me again as I was walking to my car, Mr. Army stopped me to say he wanted to go out. We declined. Did he perhaps maybe not see my face.
I’m perhaps perhaps perhaps not certain everything we could have battled about regarding the date that is next but I’m gambling it might have already been about weapons or faith. He who squeezes their eyes yells and shut the loudest wins, appropriate? No thanks. I’d rather have no pride and lay on the sofa for four hours in my own pajamas, sprinkle chocolate potato chips in a container of peanut butter and eat it as you’re watching “The Notebook. evening” If Mr. Army may be the replacement for that, I’ll happily remain house.

