We had a wonderful hot sunny weekend in Seattle, and although Andreas and I were both up to our necks in work (me: book editing; he: studying for his anatomy class), we spent a fair amount of time lounging in our backyard. At one point, the ever-lascivious wife, I encouraged him to ditch his shirt so I could ogle him and he could work on ye olde base tan. (”Take! It! Off! Take! It! Off!”) He was laser-beam focused on his studies, but obliged. Sadly, he then went back to being laser-beam focused and sat studying topless for so long that his pasty white Seattle skin got completely singed. We’re talking so burnt that the poor dear is taking pain killers and applying cold, wet washcloths to get some relief.

I feel sort of responsible, but at the same time, he promised to let me help him when it starts peeling (mm: peeling skin! my favorite!) so maybe it’s ok.