End of Storm

Yesterday evening achieve apartment in one piece (on way from subway to building in middle of fantasy about winning the Mega Millions Lottery am nearly killed by recklessly driven school bus.) Close brush with school bus does not improve mood, which is at low point anyway. Get home and try to console self by preparing cheese plate with olives and salami of unknown origin. With very little help from Jenny, consume most of food. Am sorry to say that Dave enters apartment as I am preparing last bite, which is a sandwich made up of two thick slices of salami around a piece of Manchego, three olives (pitted by self) and sprig of parsley. Dave says, what are you doing? In shocked tones. I say--with quiet dignity--that I am just having a snack before taking Jenny for a walk. Dave says, Wait a minute. I have a surprise. Am, as usual slightly apprehensive about what surprise might be (question: Is ther some childhood trauma that I am surpressing which would explain fear of surprises? Answer: probably, but do not wish to actually pinpoint.) Dave says Guess What it Is. Do not care to guess and say briskly, Just Tell Me. Dave says, Then it will be ruined. Disagree strongly and bad mood threatens to return until Dave says, OK Fine. I booked us tickets to go to Mexico. Scoop up Jenny and we do a little dance. (Note: Jenny apparently not a fan of the jig.)