..You're on," I said, waiting for the reaction. Whenever I think I've tricked Carol into conceding an argument by agreeing to something I'm sure she never thought I'd agree to, it always turns out that SHE's set ME up. I could tell by the look in her eye that she'd done it again. "Gotcha!" she popped, revealing that she'd planned it this way from the start. "HumnaHumnaHumna," I muttered, slapping my forehead and rolling my eyes skyward like Ralph Cramden and "the Meathead" combined. "Cut the bad impressions," said Carol. "The real sitcom is about to begin. Haul your buns out of that chair, go and shave really close, and get into the shower. You've got to get ready to get 'into character' for the show...and don't forget to shave those hairy legs." "B-b-b-b-but!" I pretended to protest, as she pushed me toward the bathroom. "And I'll be there in a while to help you shave whatever else needs shaving, unless you're smart enough to figure out what that might be." Feigning reluctance, I shuffled off to the shower. |