Monday, December 7, 2009


TIM: I saw everything.

ME: It was raining.

TIM: As if that is anywhere close to a legitimate excuse.

ME: I didn't want to get wet.

TIM: There's a handy appliance called an "umbrella" and effective, not unlike that gaudy nail polish you're fond of.

ME: Look, it rains so seldom here and our sidewalk goes downhill and gets very slippery. It's extraordinarily treacherous. Truly dangerous. And I had to walk the dog!

TIM: Don't you have an 18-year-old that can do that FOR you? Someone who can dress as a proxy?

ME: OH MY GOSH, TIM, it wasn't that bad!

TIM: Sure it was.

ME: They're my boots. They may be multicolored, but...

TIM: They're striped. That's different than "multicolored". Striped.

ME: And they might be a little high...

TIM: They go to your knees.

ME: But they're waterproof...

TIM: Because they're rubber. You're wearing stripped, knee-high rubber boots. Were you booked for some birthday party or something? You forgot your red rubber nose.

ME: Oh my gosh. All I cared about today was staying warm and dry. The boots worked. Wonderfully, I might add. And the coat? It was an old, hooded, army-type jacked that was perhaps a bit bulky, but did the trick.

TIM: Ahhhh yes, the trick. Was the trick making balloon animals?

ME: That's it. This conversation is over.

TIM: Why? Have the ponies arrived or is the cake being cut?

ME: Oh my gosh. I did not look like a clown!!!

TIM: No, you looked like a clown's assassin. The army coat? With those gaily colored rubber boots? Did children run from you? Did puppies yip? Were you followed by the police?

ME: I see how it is. Project Runway's season is over and you have no one to pick on, it that it?

TIM: No. You just give me so much to work with. Lose the coat. Better to catch pneumonia than be considered a suspect on the grassy knoll. Keep the boots. Take off that polish. Use an umbrella so you don't have that hunched over appearance. Make it work.

ME: Thank goodness I live in southern California. I couldn't take living somewhere where there's "real" weather. We'd kill each other.

TIM: Lord knows you're dressed for it.