“Muse! WOW! I am so glad to see you. Where have you been?”
She stepped out and regarded me with a look that could only be called disdain.“What’s this I hear about pose-it notes?”
“Pose-it notes? You mean post-it notes?”
“Oh, they’re called post-it notes? Huh. That doesn’t make much sense. Okay, anyway, someone told me you’re not writing in your nice journal from Paradise?”“You mean Paris?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”I stepped a bit closer to find out if I could smell any alcohol this time. Nada.
“Muse, if I write in the leather journal, I might mess it up. But a pose-it note, who cares?”“Pose-it? So that is the right word?”
“Stop. You know what I mean. I can throw a post-it note in the trash.”I smiled wide, revealing teeth that were not magazine model perfect, but orthodontist passable.
“Are you telling me now that you don’t recycle?”“What?”
“You throw my extra ideas away?”“No! I mean, I save them all! I would never throw your ideas away. Your ideas are brilliant!”
She stared at me for a very long time. “You are really hard to read, MOV.”“I could say the same thing about you, Muse. I never know when you are giving me a real idea or just messing with me.”
“Why would I do that?” she demanded, her eyes suddenly wild with rage.“Oh, Muse, I know you have a wicked sense of humor. Hey, are you going to be here for a minute? I can go grab my new red journal, but this ice-cream’s melting. Let me go stick it in the fridge.”
“I’ll tell you where to stick something,” she mumbled.“Excuse me?”
“I said, I’ll wait right here.”“Promise?”
“Sure.”“Okay, be right back!”
I was away less than a minute. Of course she was gone.But so was my car.