Passing thoughts on mortality.

My dearest Dr. Rob,

Isn't that a super-pretentious title? I love it.

Anyway, you know what it's in reference to, and we are both aware that there is no inherent pretension in the sentiment. You could be leaving tomorrow. It's not a guarantee or anything, but there's an outside chance that tonight will be the last night you sleep in this city as a resident.

Think about that.

Maybe think about it some more.

Okay, that's good. Enough.

So now that you've thought about it, consider this list of things I will do (or not do) if you agree to stay:

I will fold your underwear for a year (pointedly not commenting on your very obvious skidmarks)
I will promise not to gasp in horror when you make me listen to techno
I will come out even if I have to work early the next day, even if it means paying cover, even if it means dancing with strange men
I will always share my rice krispie treats at the coffee shop--and by this I mean I will only eat my half of the rice krispie treat that you bought
I will never again make you watch baseball on your own television, even if it's playoff season
I will buy your next set of jumper cables when your car dies in 35 below weather, whether they're $45 or not
I will love you forever.

Pretty good, huh? Yeah. I thought so.

I'll probably love you forever whether you stay or not. But I'll feel a lot better about it if you do.