Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Jaaaaakkke, happy birthday to you!
Valerie is still here visiting (hence the lack of posting), and we are debating whether Jake needs to take his little tail end down to the post office to register for the draft. Val says no. I say yes. The workmen who are in my house installing a new air conditioner say yes, and they have Y chromosomes so I think they are more reliable on this subject than Val. We’re going with their judgement unless Valerie sprouts testicles and their accompanying authority on all subjects masculine.
Additionally, I’m going to divvy up all the house bills, divide them by four, and give Jake his fourth to pay. Maybe I’ll write the total on a pretty piece of paper and put it in a box with a bow to make it a more festive birthday present. I’ve consulted the workmen on this, also, and they think it’s quite fair.
If anyone else would like any guidance from the air conditioning guys, they’re here all day. They’re great. They’re like a Magic Eight Ball: you just ask them a question and shake them a bit, and voila (vwah-lah, y’all!) ! Cold air and guidance.
So there you go. Bills and patriotic responsibility. Happy birthday, Jakers!