But not for me, for my poor husband.
It’s the last 80-ish-degree day of the year until fall, and he’s stuck here with me because I seem to have thrown out my back in a spectacular fashion. I’ve told him to go out and enjoy it, but he insists on staying here with me. And I? Cannot move, cannot turn my head, and it hurts too much to do anything other than sit very carefully still on the sofa.
So, ready? One… two… three…