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Friday, Cindy called. “What are you doing tonight? There’s a symphony. Beethoven’s Seventh.” “Not tonight, Sweets. I don’t feel like having to tape Wall Street Week.” Actually I was pooped. I’d spent the whole afternoon trying to decide which corner of the house to jack up so the puddle from the plumbing leak could find its way out the easiest. “Then how ‘bout tomorrow. It’s Saturday night.” “Once you decide to become a dotcom genius, every night is Saturday night and every Saturday night is New Year’s Eve.” “That’s a lot of resolution.” “Thank you.” I was amazed at myself. Here was a fabulous woman who not two months ago would have as soon gone out with a crawfish as me, and now I was passing on her. Yet She changed the subject. “If you could be someone else, who would you be?” “Well, let’s see...” There was Hugh Hefner, Woody Allen, and of course the two Bills— Gates and Clinton. “I think I’d be Gurf.” “But that is you.” “You said ‘if I could be someone else.’ I didn’t have to be him.” “Oh.” “Hey, would you like to come over and help me clean up. The toilet overflowed again. Number two.” I get a kick out of making things sound worse than they really are. “After that, maybe a hot tub and a movie.” Again, I didn’t really have a hot tub, but did have videos and a toy chest. “I can’t wait,” she replied. Was her tone sarcastic, or serious, or both. I couldn’t tell. The important thing was— Moments later we were awash in fun. |
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~ Gurf |
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