I want a trip to Giraffe Manor. Just a long weekend, really. It's a good thing that my birthday this year falls on Labor Day weekend because with a telephone number that starts with + 254 I'm thinking it might take a while to get us there. But that's what I want. To feed a giraffe a slice of fresh mango through an open living room window on my birthday. Not a massage or a bauble or even a frock. A giraffe.
Is that so much to ask? Yeah, I didn't think so, either.
And the good news for you is that the website proclaims that the property is not only home to giraffes but the indigenous Bush Buck, and Lord knows how you love yourself some Bush Buck.
So there you go, dear husband. You can thank me later. And on the morning of August 30th I swear I will act surprised when I open my eyes to the flutter of long feathery giraffe eyelashes on my cheek.
Love you, too.
Your (much younger) wife.