I don't think I even want to know

So Mr. Squab and I are discussing the weekend plans, and I suggest that we ask BFF about watching the Hatchling on Saturday so Mr. Squab and I can go out somewhere to celebrate our anniversary (six years on Sunday!).

"It's already taken care of," Mr. Squab says smugly.

"Oh really?" I'm intrigued. "Is there anything I should prepare for?"

"Hmmm ..." Mr. Squab thinks for a minute. "Don't wear any underwear."

I snort. "Uh-huh."

"And bring a snake-bite kit."