As I am marinating in bed, Caitlin calls me to discuss my recent liberation from gainful employment. We move on to discussing New Year’s plans (mine=none) and she invites me down to her beach house in South Carolina. She tells me that there are places to swim, hot tub, ride horses, etc. and it’s all sounding quite dandy, and then she throws in that we could also go coon hunting.
Coon hunting.
Now let’s examine Caitlin. She is sophisticated, intelligent, well-groomed, obsessed with oral hygiene, and generally a very cultured person. I am trying to picture her traipsing through the forest in a scene straight out of “Where the Red Fern Grows,” but it’s just not working. Perhaps it’s the denim overalls or the unwieldy axe that are causing the difficulty.
So I tell her I’ll think about it and get back to her, and I wish her a nice day at work. She ends the conversation with, “Have a nice day munching candy in bed.”
When you put it that way, somehow it just sounds wrong. I think I’ll get up now.