So Ryan's gone to take the kids horseback riding, which actually sounds like fun and stuff, but I didn't go because I have to stay home and wait on a call about a press conference for the Decameron. Which isn't called the Decameron any more, but some other stupid name that I don't like so I'm not going to think about it. I think I'm going to have to go back to Italy for a few days, and I really really hope that Ryan will go with me. Italy's really pretty and the kids could go too and stuff, plus there are lots of gorgeous places to do sinful things and lots of cathedrals and churches to go confess about it afterward, which is really kind of perfect.
I'm also avoiding the phone again, because, um, I kind of think Tove is going to kill me, and not like the kind of kill where you're joking and you're just going to get yelled at a lot. Really, really kill me. I mean, he has to be mad and I kind of hate it when he's mad so I think if I stay away from him for six months or a year he'll be calmed down enough to only maybe yell a lot.
*goes upstairs to take a shower, coming out and getting dressed in a pair of jogging pants and going downstairs for a cigarette while he waits for his phone call*