Not much going on. On Saturday I walked into the laundry room and said, “Neil, the floor is flooded.” The washing machine broke and flooded the room. Things like this are so routine after 21 years of marriage. We grabbed a bunch of beach towels, cleaned up the mess, concluded it would be cheaper to just buy a new washer than to repair it, and Neil went and picked out a new washer that afternoon. I didn’t even have to go. After 21 years, he knows what kind of washer I like. That is true love.