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Show CHRYSALIS PAGE 189 is dust on the bookcase, toys on the floor, and wrinkles in his shirt. "The toilet is clogged," he says. "I know. It has a tennis ball stuck in it." "A tennis ball? Why don't you watch these kids? That's thirty dollars for a plumber!" "Maybe you can get it out," I suggest. "I couldn't." "You'll have to call a plumber first thing in the morning," he says. I HATE it when I'm told I "have to" do anything. A "would-you- please" always works much better than a "you-have-to." "Can you spare all this free advice?" I ask him. "What do you do all day? Sit around like poor dying Camille and wait for sympathy?" he says. "I flush tennis balls down the toilet! I stuff socks down the little holes in the washer! I sit on your shirts! What do I do for sympathy? Oh, it must be great to be perfect!" "You're missing the point," he says. "I'm only suggesting that you might make better use of your time. Make lists. Budget your time." "You make a list," I say. "You call a plumber." "Is there anything to drink?" he asks. |