Tonight Marvin and I are going to see Prince. I know! But he's in town and we both like Prince and what can I tell you. I am doubting at any point in the night Marvin is going to look over at me and realize he only wants to see me bathing in the purple rain. But maybe he'll buy me a t-shirt.
In the meantime, we have to fill out a separation agreement this weekend, where we agree to divide everything up. I plan to take him for all his millions.
I totally deserve the house in the Hamptons.
Anyway, so far we are doing well on not arguing about who gets what. There is nothing that either of us is overly attached to, or that we aren't willing to part with if the other wants it. I was searching for an earring under the bed yesterday (don't ask) and I realized I would no longer have guitars under my bed and it was sort of exciting. Also, there will no longer be mysterious black cords in every.single.drawer, which I will enjoy mightily.
Why do men need so many black cords? Why aren't said cords ATTACHED to things? Are they backup emergency cords?
I did not fight Marvin on all of his Matchbox cars that he had lined up around the little ledge between the wall and the ceiling in the back room. He did not ask for the dogs playing poker picture. He's letting me keep a framed picture of his grandmother–she was the bomb.
So, I hope we stay civil. I hope I don't turn into Loni Anderson. I mean, in every way.
And be sure to give me a TON of unsolicited advice on this. Thanks.
In the meantime, you can't be depressed when this song is playing. By the way, have you seen my light-blue suit with the clouds?