Today UJ woke me up early.

“Hey, you gotta type your own blog today, I think I’m getting carpal.”

I looked at him, dazed, and confused.

“You’re going to pull a car where?”

“No no – carpal tunnel syndrome,” he held up his right forearm, “here, in my wrist.”

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

“It does seem to, yes. It’s like a numbness in my pinky finger. The other night it actually woke me up.”

“I’m not jealous,” I said. “But then, I’ve got my own troubles.”

“Like what?”

“Like the pooch.”

“What about him?”

“He keeps looking at us like he’s hungry.”

“Well, he usually is. Does this really bother you?”

“A little. I’ve taken care of him before, lots of times, but he’s bigger now, and the last few times we set-to it’s taken a lot longer to subdue him.”

“Can’t you reason with him?”

“Ha! He’s thirteen pounds of stubborn, obstreperous determination, sometimes even you have trouble keeping him in line.”

“Good point, though I will always win.”

“That’s why we’re such good friends.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Nah! You’re kinda cute, too!”

I mean, I must occasionally say something to make him feel good, mustn’t I?

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