Dear future hubster,
I sometimes forget what a great friend good old Jason is. But then come cloudy Sundays,when it's only him and me and the ironing,  and I suddenly all pieces fall into place.
(Who am I kidding, there is no ironing with Jason around, but some serious serenades, to the infinite joy of my elderly neighbours. I have the same problems with Bruce the Boss. I watched my social media course while ironing, really.) 

Dear future hubster,
for your information (in case you were worried), I have returned to the kitchen. And I think I'm good :)

Dear future hubster,
I haven't been traveling anywhere since Tuscany last October. That was half a year ago! Don't you think it's unsustainable and you should be doing something to improve the situation?

Dear future hubster,
do you ever have the urge to go back to the university library, the old one (Somogyi), or the shiny new (TIK), and just be there and study, flip the pages, wear the extra pair of socks because the airco is running wild, and go downstairs for a coffee back up with the creepy transparent elevator, pass by the rows of computers where you once received a break up email, back to your art history books, for the course where you first heard about El Camino, see familiar faces everywhere you look, and have the strange feeling that you could spend your life doing this?
Wouldn't it be great?

Dear future hubster,
there comes a point, when one listens to Boyz 2 Men at 1 am.

Dear future hubster,
I think I would let you have the green ones from a box of Merci chocolates. Sometimes. When I think you've been good.

Dear future hubster,
when I get old, you will have to either install something similar to those automatic food portioning devices cat owners use, or you have to instruct my doctor to only prescribe pills of different colours for me. I can't keep track of my ibuprofen vs paracetamol, I can only imagine how much fun it's going to be when I will have to remember more than two types at the time. A pink in the morning, two blues at noon and a yellow the evening?

Dear future hubster,
I'm not sure you believed this would ever happen, because I didn't. But it happened nevertheless. Your future little wife went to the movies on a Saturday evening, wearing glasses and no make up. That's no big deal so far, it happened before. Except all other times so far she felt like she's giving the entire world the finger by looking like garbage, because she can. This time around she's done it because she felt comfortable like that. Now that's big.

Dear future hubster,
you can tell times have been difficult when you see that I have been wearing the same 3 pairs of shoes for weeks.

Dear future hubster,
If you ever plan to bring me flowers and wish "Happy Women's Day", please be prepared to listen to a speech something along the lines of "I already don't understand and strongly dislike Valentine's Day, what's that supposed to mean, can we only express our love for each other on one specific day, selected by some higher consumer power? But this Women's Day business with flowers... irritatingly ignorant at best, downright outrageous if I want to be dramatic. As long as there are countries where domestic abuse is not a crime, I really don't think there is any reason to celebrate. And there are countries like that, dear future hubster. Many. In fact, enough to host 603 million women."

Dear future hubster,
just because I mix it with vodka, it's still a smoothie, right?

Dear future hubster,
ça fait tellement du bien de retourner au pub quiz de temps en temps, et de ne pas en terminer tout dernier. Même si on comprends pas pourquoi la voix étonnée quand on annonce les résultats de "ladies" (déjà, on est pas de ladies vu qu'on sait monter nos propres meubles, mais bon), comme si ça prenait plus que deux femmes (ou bien au moins un homme) de trouver quelques réponses et bluffer le reste. 

Dear future hubster,
whenever I'm in a bad mood, whiny, disoriented, scared by not knowing what I'm doing with my life, just send me outside for a good run. 

Dear future hubster,
when the idea of writing about you first came to my mind, it was accompanied by the idea that you would come and pick up Bea and me from the movies. It would have been so kind of you, it was raining, it was a Sunday, and I chose not to drive because I usually don't drive on weekends, and because a glass of Riesling goes with the pre-movie sushi automatically (and very well).
Nowadays, I drive myself to and from the cinema, no sushi or Riesling involved, it still rains and buses don't run very often on Sundays.