the other day we were in a bookstore in the mall and my woman said, "look, there's Bob!"
"I don't know him," I said.
"we had dinner with him not too long ago," she said.
"all right," I said, "let's get out of here."
Bob was a clerk in the store and his back was to us.
my woman yelled, "hello, Bob!"
Bob turned and smiled, waved. my woman waved back. I nodded at Bob, a very delicate blushing fellow. (Bob, that is.)
outside my woman asked, "don't you remember him?"
"no."
"he came over with Ella. re- member Ella?"
"no."
my woman remembers everything.
I don't understand it, although I suppose it's polite to remember names and faces I just can't do it I don't want to carry all those Bobs and Ellas and Jacks and Marions and Darlenes around in my mind. eating and drinking with them is difficult en- ough. to attempt to recall them at will is an affront to my well- being.
