Let me set the scene: It’s 8:20 a.m. School starts at 8:30, a short, five-minute drive away, so we’re in good shape. We arrive at the door to the garage, and I go to grab my car keys from the normally overburdened key rack … but the rack is EMPTY.
Me: “This looks like your work. Did you take all the keys off of here to play with or something?”
Violet: “Everyone likes keys.”
Yesterday, we were spectating along the course of the L.A. Marathon for a while, and apparently, during a moment when I was occupied tending to some random need of Violet’s at preschooler-level, CONAN O’BRIEN walked by us. Steve, in his subtle way, alerted me to this—or so I am told—but I did not respond. Hm … hm … HM … maybe because THIS IS NO TIME TO BE SUBTLE!!!???!!! Not only did Steve SEE Conan, he heard him make a joke! Out loud! About the music the DJs were playing! And I missed this! Altogether missed it! My once-in-a-lifetime chance to hear Conan IN PERSON making a spontaneous joke, and I missed it, because Steve, my supposed “soul mate,” LOVE OF MY LIFE, is a subtle man.
This might be a deal breaker. I am THIS CLOSE to Googling “Divorce Lawyers Who Specialize in Sabotage Through Subtlety.” (In all seriousness, I’m not … ’cause in all seriousness, I need the next 50-plus years to GET HIM BACK FOR THIS!)