February 8, 2007
conversations with a monkey series…
She’s getting ready to go out, and keeps checking the hair in the mirror.
“You’re preening.” I accuse. “Stop preening.”
“I am not! I don’t ‘preen.’” She acts surer of herself than she really is.
“Of course you’re preening. Primping. Fussing with your hair, looking in the mirror every two seconds…” I get one of my infamous flashes. “In fact, you have a scale for ‘good hair days,’ don’t you? You rate your hair day on a scale from one to ten!” I laugh at the realization. “And today is an 8, isn’t it?”
She denies it and chuckles nervously, but looks so busted it’s not even funny.
“Oh my God! You do! And it is an eight, isn’t it?”
“Shut up. I do not.” She still looks busted. “Don’t be a bitch.”
“Oh, whatever. That’s just what you say when I’m right.”
She doesn’t argue. I am right. Of course.