Modern is not necessarily better. Cheaper is always better.
I ask my friend (okay, I’m talking about Ed, my occasional traveling companion) to help me put up a hook by the shower. He agrees. He brings this tool to get the job done:
What is that?
It works – he’ll tell you.
In the meantime, as he leisurely surveys the spot by the shower door, I am crazily making improvements on my lecture. I haven’t bothered to look decent. My mind is on the class ahead. Ed glances over, mumbles some nicety and snaps this photo.
To him, I looked nice and tussled.
In the late afternoon I visit my man Jason, the brilliant man of color. Hair color. Jason does magic. Jason scrunches his hand here, blows some air there and I leave feeling like I could face the world and hold my own.
Tonight, Ed is coming over for supper. He has professed an interest in recreating a Bittman recipe. He likes Bittman and I’m willing. We’ll be eating chopped cabbage and potatoes. He will dutifully look at Jason’s efforts and make some pleasant remark. Then he’ll pick up his repair tool and work on putting the hook up.
[All this to deflect from what really captured my attention tonight: the debate.]
