Suppose you answer the door and

she’s not there. Suppose it’s a man

with pamphlets who wants you to know

that his driveway paving service is

far superior to the more well-established one

in town, the one you’re embarrassed to

know by name. So suppose you listen

to his schpeal and then go back

inside and, upon realizing that the

disappointment you’re feeling is rooted

in your pathetic hope that she would

actually visit you on your birthday –

even though you broke up three and

a half months ago and she hasn’t

spoken to you since – you get distracted

by the cat’s fresh hairball that you just

stepped in on the carpet. Statement on

the salesman’s pitch or not, you’re still

angry and the cat is nowhere to be found.

So you go to the kitchen and get the Clorox

and the paper towels and now all you can

think about is how she used to tell you

to dab the stains, not wipe them.