Not sure why. Maybe I have a sign on my forehead that says, “Crazy? Consider me. I pair well with insane women. Like a good wine and cheese.” I don’t blame the women because I’m a man who takes responsibility for his shit. I know I’m the one with the problem, and it started with Roxy. She caught my eye during my senior-year astronomy elective. We moved in together after college, and she worked late hours in public relations at a big New York firm. I burned the midnight oil, too, trying to earn my stripes as a master carpenter. Roxy was great, totally supportive, and everything a young guy working his way up in Manhattan could want—fun, supportive, and upbeat, as well as wild in the sack. But that’s not the point. The point is she’s the one who urged me to strike out on my own and build my carpentry business. She even provided some tips and guidance on incorporating. Can you tell where this is going? Yeah, so can I.
