I am half-sleeping and contemplating staying there til I die. Smyrish comes in to the bedroom and flicks on the light.
Smyrish: Tom Petty told me to get rid of my computer and buy a guitar.
Abigail: Don't listen to Tom Petty. He's a fucking pot head.
Smyrish: I don't think I'll give up the computer, but I am going to buy a guitar. I am going to learn to play it by the time I'm 27.
Abigail: Why? So you can become a huge famous rockstar and die of a heroin overdose by the time you're 27?
Smyrish: How'd you know?
Abigail: 'Cause that was always my plan, but it didn't work out. Look at me now, 29, all alive and shit, and drug-free. That's me, always have big ideas, never follow through on anything.
Smyrish: That sucks. See ya later dear, love ya.
Note: Unlike me, Smyrish gets big ideas and follows through on them. About an hour later, he came home with a guitar. I totally thought he was joking, but I guess not. He really did listen to Tom Petty. Hopefully, before he dies of his drug overdose, he lists me as a beneficiary, so I can live out my dream of sitting on a beach drinking margueritas and diddling the young bartender/pool boy/masseuse, all the while not having to worry about money, because my rich rockstar husband left me his fortune.