Don’t tell my husband, but I think I’ve fallen in love.
Now don’t get too excited. It’s not that juicy.
I haven’t met some tall, dark stranger on the midnight train to someplace exotic. If I did, I’m pretty sure he’d keep walking. The minivan and excess baby weight are kind of a turnoff. Can I really call it baby weight if the baby is ten?
Oh, right. I’m getting off topic here. I won’t leave you hanging.
I’ve fallen in love with ... American literature. Wait. Stay with me here.