Chapter 27 of the love story begins tomorrow. Valentine's Day is our wedding anniversary.
And what's the deal? What is going on here?
Anytime I give Donna The Universal Sign of Feed Me Some Food, Woman (i.e., the pointed index finger poked repeatedly into my stomach), she says, "You want a banana sandwich?"
No.
No, I do not want a banana sandwich.
Never, NOT ONCE IN TWENTY-SIX YEARS have I wanted a banana sandwich.
I will never want a banana sandwich.
Ain't gonna happen.
Banana sandwich.
What is she thinking?
