Last Saturday morning, E.S. cleaned my room while I made us egg nog pancakes for breakfast.
Yesterday, he cleaned my living room while I made blueberry bread.
There are three or four more rooms in my apartment (depending on what you count as a room), so clearly I have to keep him around for at least another month.
At which point I’ll be so fat from all the baked goods that I’ll be unable to find another boyfriend and I’ll have to keep him anyway.
Oh, shit. I just called him my boyfriend.
And it’s too late to take it back.
Let’s hope that when I call him that to his face, he doesn’t react the way I did when he did the same thing.