this is an inside joke. my husband is headed downstairs this morning for his second sunday in a row of tax work, after two straight weeks of seven appointments a day. in such a state, a whimsical exhortation to “play,” like most pop culture affirmations, will drive him slightly mad, in a kind of adorable way. don’t worry, i’ll have a fire in the fireplace and a glass of rose waiting for him at the end of his 14th straight day of fully-booked schedule. he’ll be a lamb by bedtime.