Tuesday, November 17, 2009


I was committed to going to dinner at another couple's house. As I've said more than once, I like people--I just don't like them near me.

"This is what people do," Gloria said.

"Which people?" I asked.

"All people," Gloria said. "They meet. They socialize. They sit around and talk."

"Stop," I said. "This is gross. It's like talking about your parents having sex."

We're going to Shreveport on Saturday. Going to Shreveport is kind of like being in basic training in the Army, where they destroy you to rebuild you, except there's no rebuilding.

"So hypothetically," I said, "If I had swine flu, would I have to go to Shreveport?"

"No, but we couldn't go, either," she said, "so we'd just postpone the trip."

"Hmm," I said. "What about an outstanding felony charge, provided I was out on bail?"

"Borderline," she said. "I still think you'd have to go."

"Murder?" I asked.

"I'm having a pain just below my throat," Gloria said last week. "I wake up at night and it just doesn't feel right. And it tightens up at times during the day."

"Is this more likely to happen when you're stressed out?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," she said. "It doesn't seem like it."

"Is this more of an 'impending heart attack' or a 'huge tumor blocking your airway' kind of pain?" I asked.

"Not helping," she said.

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