We were already domestic in the shower, though it was one week to the day since I had first seen Sean naked.After showering and dressing, we went to the small kitchen for another ritual. I had my egg and oatmeal while Sean had his open egg sandwich. We barely spoke, but there was a tension in the air. Today we would finalize many of the preparations—Sean in the office and myself with the costumers. Understanding the importance, I raised my glass of juice. Sean responded in kind. We touched plastic rims. Once he had gone, I realized how few words we had spoken. Was that good or bad?My schedule did not allow for any pondering. I grabbed a bare ten minutes of stretching, then went to meet everyone at the garage. Since we were going into the bowels of Manhattan, we had two cars and two drivers. Sean had driven himself to work in his prize muscle car. George and the Mercedes were driving Siobhan and Francine. Russell was driving Christine and I in my Volvo. I apologized to Siobhan before. He knew how long I had been trying and how frustrating it was to be unable to conceive.Across the room there was a heated discussion concerning Satanic rituals among the homeless in Cleveland. I couldn't resist asking a nattily dressed gentlemen why he was holding a large stack of records in his lap, and he informed me in detail of the suicide messages to be found when playing rock records backwards. It made me wonder what the cults promoting this activity are going to do about messages on CDs.Al too soon it was time to make my appearance. I sat there nervously watching the monitor tell me that all you had to do to be young and beautiful was drink Poopsie-Cola until the red light went on. Sally Oprah switched on her smile and asked me why I was trying to save the last lighthouse in Nebraska. I think you will be able to share my confusion at the question. Obviously Sally Oprah had the wrong cue card, and how could I tell her that on National TV?What else could I do? I think I came off.
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