For the most part, Mike and I felt safe and secure in London. Sure there were a couple of near-misses with oncoming traffic and more than one instinctive clutch of my purse closer to my chest, but overall, nothing to fret over.
I guess our most significant close-call so far would be from a couple days ago when I picked up Mike’s passport off of the bedroom floor and casually tossed it over to him … just barely missing the open window leading to the city street three floors below. Oops.
Went over to Adam and Em’s to watch the final game of the NCAA tournament. We were rooting for Kentucky in support of Randy, so in the last minutes of the game, Mike offers the team a bit of encouragement: “Come on, guys. Score some more of those basketball points!”
Our kids, if we have them, are doomed to be enormous nerds.
I typically scoff when my husband mandates that we purchase the super soft, plush, gentle-enough-for-a-baby’s-bottom toilet paper. But I have to admit that it’s been a lifesaver for my recent hyper congested, blow-my-nose-every-five-minutes affliction.
So here’s a toast (of Emergen-C) to Mike’s tender tushy!