Friday, October 27, 2006

WE ARE NOT A SUBTLE SORT

"One, two, three," she says. "Four, five, six...twelve, thirteen...twenty-one, twenty-two..," she continues.

"Thirty-four, thirty-five...forty-three, forty-four...fifty-nine, sixty," and then she inhales deeply. "Sixty-one..."

"Saia?" he calls sweetly.

"Sixty-two, sixty-three...seventy-seven, seventy-eight..."

"Saaaaaiiiiiiaaaa?" he bellows across the console.

"Eighty-niiiiine, ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two..." she continues unaffected.

Then drawing in a deep breath, he yells, "SAIA!SAIA!SAIA!SAIA!SAIA!SAIA!SAIA!SAIA!"

To which, thank God, she finally replies, "Yes, Santiago, what is it?" although she's glaringly exasperated.

"Aren't you tired of counting yet?"

[By the way, in case you were wondering, you can, apparently, count to 100 TWENTY-FIVE FREAKIN' TIMES between the time we leave our house in the morning and the moment I come screeching into the drive at the school, which, as I may have mentioned once or twice before is FORTY-FIVE MINUTES AWAY!!!!!!!]

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