CONCLUSION
It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and the weather was perfect. The sun rose from the east, and a warm breeze blew from the west. Clair spent the time picking flowers and pruning her plants. Glenn came out juggling a tray of iced lemonade in one hand, two tumblers in the other, and a tennis racket tucked under his arm. He placed the tray and its contents on a nearby table, gave her a peck on the cheek, and was off to play tennis with his buddies.
Clair stood beside him and said, “I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“Why don't you invite a few of your OCD group members over next weekend?”
“My, who?”
“Your compulsive, disorder clients. We'll have a cook-out,” —then whispered — “and see who wants to help clean the house.”
“Oh, yeah. I'm sure it would be fun, and they would do a g
