I miss the days of pretend.

When we could lose ourselves in a world of make-believe and it seemed so real.

Let’s try it.

Like… can we pretend that my post from yesterday made a modicum of sense?

Can we pretend that I actually planned where I was headed with that post and somehow managed to successfully tie my Sweeney Todd date story in with how people in a relationship can be different, but that’s okay, as long as you both respect those differences?

Can we pretend that I didn’t flee the house, 10 minutes late for work, knowing that I could have written that better if I’d actually left myself some time?

Can we pretend that I did go back and fix it, and that blemish that will likely exist on my blog until the very end of time (along with many, many others) is just an illusion brought on by lack of sleep or drinking 3 cups of coffee before we’ve had anything to eat?

And while we’re at it, can we pretend I’m still here:

Formentera, Balearic Islands, Spain

Doing this:

Biking is the best way to get yourself around this island. It’s mostly flat. Mostly. And for the parts that aren’t… well… exercise is good for you.

And eating this:

We rented a small apartment just a half-mile bike ride from a tiny grocery store. This breakfast “frittata” is my sister-in-law’s genius concoction of our leftover garlicy pasta noodles, eggs, and whatever else we had left in the fridge.

With these people:

So this is the not-flat part of Formentera. We were exhausted. But it was nothing that a can of Pringles and a spectacular cliff side view couldn’t fix.

Yep.

I think, while assisting realtors in their extremely respected and important line of profession today, I’m going to be doing a lot of pretending.