I love afternoon thunderstorms, especially because I live in the sunshine state, especially because I work from home, especially because they kick-start my imagination.
Bianchi however does not like thunderstorms. They make her antsy and irritable. Shoved up against a grimy wall in our dank shed, she quickly loses her cool with Joe’s Target bike, a foul-mouthed rust-bucket with a persistent sex-on-a-motel-bed squeak.
Speaking of Bianci. Remember how I said I schlepped her to Buffalo in a giant airport-issued cargo box? In case you couldn’t picture it, here she is curbside at the Southwest check-in counter. I considered coloring in the illustration with an appropriate celeste marker…
… but Photoshop will have to do.
After reading some of the thoughtful comments in the previous post, I started wondering if all this wedding pomp is making me unromantic. I’ll write something mushy this weekend to remedy that, rattle the gag reflexes a little. However, if you’re new to this place and never caught this post, it’s a total mushfest – and my favorite Lance story.
One more thing: it’s Friday. I’m in love.