The exact opposite of the carnal Katrina's shoes incident is nigh.
"I want to have my third bachelorette party at your house and we all spend the night there!" Flo texted me.
I added the "third" part. Pardon my indulgence. You gotta love serial marryers who indulge in the pomp each time.
"Whadya think?" she added when my response was insufficiently fast.
"Sure," I replied. "Do I have to be there?"
"YES!" Flo went on. "And dude, you TOTALLY OWE ME for this!"
Ah yes. A bunch of surly middle-aged women drinking my booze, trashing my house, and celebrating Flo's marriage du jour in my home, where quite against my will the relationship was originally consummated.
I owe her.