Nothing calms the nerves like frozen confections.
So, at 1:58, Jilly-bean and I are in the kitchen finishing our ice cream sundaes. I scrape the spoon around the base of my bowl, scooping the last of the melted ice cream and chocolate syrup.
"Mom doesn't need to know about our ice cream luncheon, right?"
"I'm okay with that," she says, adding another squirt of whipped cream to her bowl.
I confiscate the can of whipped cream and gather the sticky utensils.
"So, you wanna hear about my science project?" She licks her fingers.
"Do I have a choice?"
"I'm gonna demonstrate why lawn chemicals are so bad."
"Bad for who?"
"For everybody. People. Pets. Insects. Birds. The whole earth."
I rinse the bowls and spoons in the sink.
"Think of all the bees and earthworms already dead from lawn chemicals. Pretty soon we're not gonna have any more food if we keep killing them."
"Sounds to me like you've been doing a lot of reading."
"I need to verify my sources."
I turn to my daughter wearing a proud smile.
#######
2:44. In my upstairs office, I finish photographing the pertinent documents in the Trollamex files. Now I can get them out of this house and return them to Carl. I dial.
"Dunning and Brannigan," says Wren.
"Hey, Wren. It's Phil."
No response.
"Phil Robiski."
More silence.
"May I speak to Carl?"
"One moment, please."
"Ola, Phil," Carl says cheerfully. He gulps his coffee.
"Can you turn down the temperature?"
"Huh?"
"Isn't that what you said at the end of our last meeting?"
"I may have. You're not recording this conversation, are you?"
"No, I'm not. I'll bring the files in. You can call off your thugs."
He takes another long drink of coffee before asking, "Somebody came by the house for those files?"
"Come on, Carl. I'm not Bernie."
"Phil, you remember when I said that we didn't want to throw sand in their jockey shorts?"
"Yeah, I do recall that."
"Sounds to me like somebody over at Trollamex got their giblets chafed."
I wince at the mental image.
"Why don't you harness the huskies and let's hack through the tall grass?"
"You want me to come over for a meeting?"
"That's what I said."
#######
4:12. Jillian and I are on our way home from dropping off the Trollamex files at Dunning and Brannigan. There's a new grinding noise coming from under the hood, which isn't the least bit reassuring. I try to tune it out but it's definitely getting louder.
YOU ARE READING
Vital Signs
HumorPhil's wife, Megan, and his daughter, Jilly-bean, are the reasons he gets up bright and early every morning, puts on a suit and tie, and sits in rush hour traffic on his way to a job that has become unbearable. For years, the only way he's managed t...
