This is mine, because what's yours is mine. Mmmkay? And I picked up the champagne bottle and walked out Caleb's front door.
(Don't worry. He owes me. Everything. Anything I want. That's the deal.)
I brought the bottle back to the house and told PJ we were having a champagne lunch.
Sorry, Bridge, you're having coffee and maybe a sandwich.
Well...what kind of sandwich? PJ's the best parent ever. Take the coveted item and replace it with delicious possibilities.
What kind would you like?
Radish sprouts, pickles, ham and havarti.
Jalapenos too?
Did I ever tell you I love you so much?
Yes but sadly only when you're drunk.
That's not true. You're my favorite metal God. Plus you use conditioner so you have great hair. It's so shiny.
Don't ever change, Bridget.
Because you can totally fucking tell which bands don't use conditioner, right? I mean they could all have great hair but they just don't give a fuck. If you're going to make the effort to maintain it long you should nourish it, shouldn't you?
A sandwich is slid under my nose. And a coffee. Just like that. Magic.
And then actual magic walks through the door and I realize there's an extra plate.
Lochlan! Are you off early?
No, just home for lunch and to see my baby.
Huh? Ruth's at school. It's Tuesday. Oh, wait. I get it.
Drunk Tuesday?
GOSH. How'd you know?
A little birdie told me.
One with really shiny hair?
That's the one.
(I didn't realize until much later that it was August that called him. August also uses conditioner.)
