When my future sister-in-law and mother of my Godchild texts a request to find some elusive baby formula, you drop what you’re doing and make a few stops to see what can be done to see Jaxon Layne through the next week or so.
Once upon a time, I would have put forth the same effort in the hunt for some exotic whiskey or rare gin; this is a much happier search, with a much happier ending, and there’s a beautiful comment on personal evolution somewhere in that.
(By the way, when did this shit become so expensive? This was almost half a bottle of Tom Ford cologne! And it doesn’t smell half as good…)
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