... My boyfriend must be a CIA operative. Or, a thief. How else to explain the fact that every bag or box I opened this weekend in my closet-cleaning extravaganza had a laptop in it. There are like 10 laptops in the closet. OK, not 10, but seriously, lots.
Now, I will concede that one of them is mine. (That would be the one where the hinges have broken off so now when you open it, you have to prop the screen up against something so it won’t fall all the way over backwards.)
But all the other ones, those are Secret Agent Sandy’s. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.