Juice

Guy is emotional, so we are listening to Juice Newton. Juice is just a poor man's Ronstadt, but Guy doesn't care. I guess I don't care either, because I am a poor man, too. We don't deserve Linda, so we get Juice. I have been talking a lot today, and I cannot stop, and it is all bad and negative and things that I should move on from but instead I drag them back up and kick them around out loud for some unknown reason. We are sitting at the kitchen table, and I can see the look on Guy's face, and I see his expression and I can remember watching Blind Date with my cousin Ruth at my Aunt's cottage before she moved to Costa Rica to ride horses and give massages.

Is it therapeutic for you to talk about these things? Guy says.

What do you mean? 

Would it be better for you to just sit quiet, or to try to talk about fun things, or something, or just anything else?? Guy says.

Do you want me to shut up?

Guy clearly wants me to shut up, but for some reason I can't. We are both not happy, I think because our scheme has been slow to catch. Inventory, Guy says we just need more inventory.

Guy says if we lived closer to Virginia Beach, we could go see the house where Juice Newton was born.

I point at the house across the street and tell Guy that if Juice Newton were born there, it would still be stupid.