We set up a fine tree this year. Did it up just right, and the funny thing is we got it at Home Depot. This tree that looks so stoic and ancient. Alexis put a very modest number of white lights on it, buried deep within the branches, and it just looks ghostly there in the living room, transforming the bleak salmon carpeting (which was unpleasantly moist during the summer) and 70s-era architecture into something elegant. Which is I guess what I strive for in every aspect of my life. ISN’T THAT RIGHT.

In the middle of writing the above paragraph last night, I heard about Leslie. It was a terrible night of vague information. I went to sleep. I woke up thinking about how we were going to live together in a farmhouse in Bucks County. And how she slept on the floor so I could sleep on her bed. And how she brought me on as a writer for Smug.com. And how she introduced me to Alexis. And how my life would be drastically different today without her, and how I probably wouldn’t’ve been in that living room last night, looking at that tree, and writing that paragraph, and writing it in that particular way.