“We should really tell them about that?”

“What?” Sips coffee and plops down to watch hummingbirds working over the salvia and bathing in the fountain.

“Dead snail on the wall.”

“Sounds like an indie rock band.”

“It’s been there a while and it’s bugging me.”

“It’s better than dead rat in the alley,” I counter.

Hum of agreement.

“Or dead cat in the yard,” I conclude.

Uproarious laughing commences.

And that’s how a weekend morning starts. Trust me, when you can have conversations that subsist of only questions like, “Do you want to be the shoveller or the bagger?” you know it’s true love.