P,
Oh I saw you at the door, my friend. I spent the morning just behind the bathroom blinds making sure my young help was managing all that sweaty labor without too much strain. I hoped by not answering you would immediately remove your blond self from my property and NOT engage him in conversation. Alas, it is too much to ask, isn’t it, when we are too often denied the sight of such biceps?
In any case, although you managed to force a slow down of work as my he-man watched you sashay your tiny little attributes home, I cannot claim any great success for myself. Although I proceeded to ply him with my own homemade goods, he insisted upon addressing me as "mom" as I had my youngest cherub in tow. You can imagine the remaining interaction was less than I hoped.
I did discover, in the end, that fence man used to be the carnie at the Ocean City Boardwalk who guessed everyone’s weight and age. So although I wanted to assume his penetrating glance was meant to suggest my fence would require weekly maintenance, it’s clear he was sizing me up as "mom" with all the age and weight that moniker denotes. Alas, in the end, this Empress was revealed in all her foolishness after all.
Faithfully,
C.
