"Yeah, we really should," I said.
"The problem is, our lives really aren't that interesting," he went on.
I looked at him for a moment, astounded that he could say such a thing.
"Rob." I said. "The sushi experience wasn't all that interesting. Picking up our dog at the animal shelter wasn't all that interesting. Moving a bunch of crap out of my uncle's house wasn't all that interesting! It's the whole writing-about-it thing that makes it interesting in the first place!"
"Well ..." he said, unconvinced.
"Why, hell, I could probably write a whole saga just about getting you to do a FitDay journal," I exclaimed.
He turned to look at me skeptically. "Oh, I don't think so," he said, "I mean, what could you do with that? Seriously."
"Rob." I said. "I got like two thousand words out of you and your cell phone addiction."
Rob was beginning to look a bit nervous, "Okay, well, I still call slander on that one," he began.
I waved him off. "Sure, sure, whatever, but seriously. We could totally do the FitDay experience."
"I don't know ... I still don't really think you could take that anywhere."
I looked at him.
"Is that ... a challenge?" I asked, in a deceptively gentle tone of voice.
Rob looked a bit anxious now. "I ... I don't KNOW!"
Truthfully, I didn't know either. But it definitely had ... shall we say ... possibilities.
(and yes, I will be finishing "Method and Process." Just had to get this out.)