Elizabeth is leaving us, and she doesn't care.
She says, "Oh, I might stop for a second and think, 'Wow, I bet they'd really love this view, too, but I promise you: I won't be worrying about how the ad pages look.'"
It'll only be two weeks. She's going on vacation. But still: Two weeks without our managing editor? Two weeks without Elizabeth? Who knows what could happen? Without a woman to keep us tidy, on time, and tucked in, things might just get a little bit rough around here.
"Elizabeth," says JA, "when you get back, we'll still be wearing the same clothes, only difference is there'll be the proper manly sweat circles."
"Yeah," I say, "and there'll be pizza boxes and beer bottles all over the floor."
"Ha!" JA continues, "And you'll find a big tobacco stain outside of Stephen's office."
"That's right. And lots of other stains, too," I say.
JA turns to me and, forgetting for a moment that Elizabeth is actually still here, we take turns:
"We'll leave all the lights on and we'll forget to put the toilet seat down."
"We won't bother to close the refrigerator door."
"We'll teach Elizabeth's plants to swear!"
