Contemplating My Dilemma
Friday I occupy my mind with work, no distracting pain each time I sit.
Saturday comes, and strangely I have second thoughts. In my talk with Miss Carson on Thursday morning I did not offer to again clean for her and make her lunch. I berate myself for considering doing so... emblematic of Becky’s observation... that there are boys wired in a certain way. Why would scrubbing her floor naked and in tethers be something to be sought without inducement? To so volunteer my servitude?
I answering myself... she was kindly, feeding my warped penchant with aplomb.
Instead I clean my apartment, trying to take my mind off my 7:00 p.m. rendezvous with Becky.
Pondering my predicament, I try to console myself. Coming to mind are various Hollywood productions... mob movies.
