P.S., How are you feeling? I didn’t make it into Agape the last two days now that I’ve been forced to evacuate the premises under someone’s dictatorial orders. I won’t name names to protect the guilty. (Good news: I booked a few clients and am doing house calls all week.) P.P.S., Please tell Vince and Bill thank you for getting my stuff out of the apartment for me. I really appreciate their help. And yours. P.P.P.S., I’m going to sound like a traitor of the highest order here, but . . . Italian food. Do I get to ask you a question now?
