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I have some bad news. Yesterday at the Showcase put on by the Northeastern Woodworkers Association, I fell in with the wrong sort of people , again.
I was browsing the booths on the show floor and chuckling at some amusing T-shirts for sale when I came face to face with that person. You know. The one we talked about that night in bed. I know I promised I wouldn’t get involved ever again. That I was going to block their e-mails. That I was committed to our marriage , growing old together and enjoying a comfortable retirement.
Now I don’t know if that’s going to happen. Because, dear wife, I fell into the clutches of Patrick Leach.
And I might as well say this now because you’ll eventually find out anyway: It’s actually worse than you probably suspect because Tony Murland was there as well.
And I touched his libella.
You might as well change all the credit card numbers before I plunge us into financial ruin during this tryst in Saratoga Springs, N.Y. For I cannot help but be seduced by the curvy brass and the perfectly horned wooden totes on the saws.
I tried to resist. I really did.
Your husband,
– Christopher Schwarz
