It is 11pm in LA, 9am in Juba. Juba is in military lockdown. Los Angeles is not. Mike and Lisa have taken advantage of Mike being unable to leave his compound and the internet actually working to have (hopefully) their last skype date of this trip.
Forty five minutes later:
Mike: “Sweetheart, I’m going to let you go to bed. You’ve only got two more nights of uninterrupted sleep before your personal snoring machine comes home.”
Lisa (sighing a little at the prospect of having to relearn how to share a bed for the fourth time this year): “I’m mostly happy about that.”
Mike: “Mostly?”
Lisa: “Look, mostly means the majority. It means above average. I’m above average happy.”
Mike: “You promised to spend the rest of your life with me. So I can take “mostly happy” at the prospect of a homecoming. That’s fine.”
Lisa: “Guess what?”
Mike: “What?”
Lisa: “I’m 100% happy at the prospect of spending the rest of my life with you.”
Mike: “Awwww… that’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to me all morning. Perhaps all month.”
Lisa: “I know. So I’m going to quit while I’m ahead. I hope the soldiers let you catch that plane.”
Mike: “Me too. Love you.”
Lisa: “Love you. See you at LAX.”
