WordPress wrote me a little thank you letter for sticking with either blogging or WordPress for three years, which would be hilarious if Blogger hadn’t tossed me the hell out. Siobhan and I spent two months in a glamorous panic, trying to put down our adult beverages long enough to move Poor Impulse Control. Thing is: we actually have poor impulse control. So WordPress? Don’t take this the wrong way because you’re nice and only go through our wallet for loose bills now and then, but we’re only with you because our ex was a real bastard. Happy anniversary. Let’s order a pizza or something. You pay.

In other news: tomorrow is Pete’s and my fourth wedding anniversary, which is sure to surprise everyone who’s ever met me. Certainly, Mr. DBK will be surprised by all these pronouns. Pete and I will celebrate this by – we don’t know. We had to look at the marriage certificate to figure out the actual date. Romance is in the air – or pollen! Either can make you sneeze.

In even more news: Wednesday, Pete and I have appointments with the same doctor. I have reached three months post-surgery and hope to be allowed to bicycle and use the rowing machine. This is important because I am decadently fat and must change that immediately. Pete is seeing the surgeon to determine if and when he should have a torn ACL repaired. Naturally, all this involves celebratory borscht. Things may be looking up, if the trees overhead aren’t filled with poop-squirting birdies.