So Mr. Squab and I are discussing the weekend plans, and I suggest that we ask BFF about watching the Hatchling on Saturday so Mr. Squab and I can go out somewhere to celebrate our anniversary (six years on Sunday!).
“It’s already taken care of,” Mr. Squab says smugly.
“Oh really?” I’m intrigued. “Is there anything I should prepare for?”
“Hmmm …” Mr. Squab thinks for a minute. “Don’t wear any underwear.”
I snort. “Uh-huh.”
“And bring a snake-bite kit.”
