“One word. No, two words. Garbage disposal. You thought you knew how to work that, too. And a third word...you’ll have fun and get outside your head for at least two hours unless you let the dude spend the night, which I can’t imagine. But maybe you will, and I’ll become Aunt A to a cute little FBI baby with itty bitty Air Maxes and an anxiety disorder.” “I cannot even begin to explain how that is way more than three words,” I replied.
