Is there a way for you to work out your honor without leaving "treats" in my refrigerator every day? It's really starting to remind me of the birds and mice Sinatra leaves at the door whenever he's around. Thank you but please make it stop.
I'm going to keep telling you my schedule because it forces me to figure out where I'm going before I hit the road in the morning. You shouldn't have to keep watch. I'll be out from ten to six tomorrow.
Last thing—you know what I'm getting at. You know you're living rent-free in my head too. Enjoy that shower. –L
* * *
Linden,
Yep, that was a saw! I'm tackling the porch now. It was getting on my nerves and I needed a break from painting.
Here's the thing: you don't like the birds I murder for you—or treats, as I call them—but I'm using your shower and laundry and I need to drag something dead to your door as a show of my appreciation.
Should I chop your wood instead?
While you mull that over, enjoy some authentic homemade southern biscuits.
Also, the crockpot is not up for conversation. Please accept that it's an important part of my life.
Why do I get the impression you'd wander in the woods all day if you didn't check that schedule in the morning?
~J
* * *
Jasper.
Three things.
1. Don't even think about chopping wood. I've seen the way you wield a crowbar. An axe is out of the question.
2. The biscuits weren't terrible. They were burnt on the bottom and undercooked in the middle but they weren't terrible. I'm not sure if I've grown accustomed to your baking and anything edible seems like a blue-ribbon biscuit or these are somewhat good.
3. Why isn't your husband rebuilding that deck for you?
–L
* * *
Linden,
Because he lives in Northern Ireland with his fiancée.
~J
* * *
Jasper.
Why the hell is he in Northern Ireland?
–L
* * *
Linden,
My husband moved because his boss was appointed Special Envoy to Northern Ireland. It's a plum gig and being asked to join a new envoy as chief of staff is an offer you don't refuse.
