I'm Fine. And You?

Becky heard from an old high school classmate the other day. Reunions are funny, ours is next month, because they encourage people to reach out and reconnect with old friends.

Or so I've heard.

His name is Jon and he's going to the reunion that Beck and I cannot be bothered to attend. Because the last one blew.

And so did I, by the way. Chunks of bile all over the Howard Frankland Bridge on our way home.

Speaking of not hot.

So Beck relays their email exchange and says,

"I told him you and I were still good friends and he says hello."

I kind of chuckle and say,

"Good friends? You could just say I'm living in your house."

"I know," she giggles, "but just mentioning it without the whole story....well, I didn't want you to seem lame."

I laugh and then stop.

Lame? What the f*ck?

So I told her I'd write a template she could simply cut and paste into email correspondence for the next three weeks until we close on our newly bought house.

(Yes. Bought a house. We really are going to live here. Apparently.)

Here goes:

"Remember Katie Furey? Yes, frizzy hair and bad manners. She and I are still close. I know. I've been putting up with her sh*t for years and now I'm doing her laundry, too. Cause she lives upstairs. In my house.

My husband hired her husband, whom I adore because he listens to my stories and makes sloppy egg sandwiches and sometimes even rocks my daughter to sleep. So they are here, looking for a house, and I'm so excited.

Because I've always admired Katie and want to be just like her.

Plus her kids are great. Sure, they talk more than most people breathe. But that's okay. They're *gifted*.

And Katie actually looks presentable these days. Hair isn't nearly as frightening anymore. Started wearing makeup and clothes that fit. I know! Now that her body is acceptable and she's sworn off patchouli oil, I can finally introduce her around town.

Check her out at www.outinleftfield.com. And then you can admire her, too."

There. That wasn't so hard - was it?