Either Way, It’s Time To Pick Up The Pace

Last night while out eating a late dinner, I overheard something that made me feel impelled to now give a bit of friendly advice to an anonymous gentlemen, much as I once did for an anonymous doctor.

Sir, when your girlfriend who is seated across the table from you announces to the server in a voice loud enough to carry the length and breadth of the restaurant that she “expects a ring on her finger” from you “no later than next year,” you really only have two practical options at that point:

1.  Accept that your remaining time is about to be measured in terms of “Till death do you part.”

OR

2.  Accept that your remaining time is about to be measured in terms of “Length of your head start.”

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