I asked Tony what I should write about on my blog today.  His response?  “How much you love my face.”

This is from the same kid whose response to why he doesn’t keep up with my blog was “Duh – I’m one of the characters.  I’m living it.”


Last night I came through the door from work and instantly panicked.  Everything was picked up and there was a kind of organization to the usual clutter.  My first thought was that the realtor had (once again) forgotten to call when she had a showing, so had picked up a little bit before bringing people through.  This has happened 2 other times and both times I came home find my bed partially made and a general feeling of a “frenzied” clean. 

I called Tony, who was at his friends’ house, and said, “I think the damn realtor came.  The counter looks like it’s been wiped down.”


“I cleaned,” he responded.  I think his feelings were hurt that I didn’t automatically assume he had cleaned up.  He had even emptied the dishwasher (I’m still in shock over here). 

While I am so thankful that he was trying to be sweet, I can’t help but feel bad that the first place my mind went to was that he was up to something.  I’m still not sure.  Who is this kid?  What alien life force came down and replaced my fiancee with a newer, cleaner model?  And if that’s what happened, they can keep the old one.