Went down to New Hampshire to climb for the weekend, this time with an Aussie chick. Thankfully, she didn’t kick my ass like the crazy Ukranian from last year, but that’s only because I’m not strong enough to climb anything she’s on. Anyhow, I’m climbing with her because the milliner is in Ottawa, attending a friend’s wedding. Because of my history with, ahem, receptions and all, I declined to go. But, being the whupped gentleman that I am, I made sure to call her during the weekend, to let her know that I wasn’t dead. Or in a ditch bleeding. Or whatever.
I get back home Sunday night, the milliner getting there a few hours later. With all my laundry. Which has been washed. And ironed. And folded. By her mom, no less. Score!
Oh, I’m more than able to do this myself, but I sure as heck ain’t complainin’. I think I should leave more often.