“Only you,” my husband said, “would trade a shoe for a book.”
“What’s worth more?” I asked, “Maimonides, or some old shoe?”
I knew that I had the better of the argument, and my husband would understand. After all, our first date had been a trip to a bookstore. But he just shrugged and sighed. Where had my book-loving husband gone?
“You’ve changed,” I said.
“It’s not that you have a book instead of a shoe,” he said, “It’s that you never remember making the trade. You’ve changed.”
It’s true that I sometimes head to the kitchen hoping to get a chocolate éclair from the freezer and return holding a small frog. I don’t know how the frog got into the kitchen. I just know that it’s something new, and interesting enough to make me forget the chocolate éclair. My husband should be glad that I can be distracted by a frog in the kitchen. Certainly, my waistline thanks me.
And I still have my wits about me. To prove it, when we returned home, I sat on the couch, opened Guide for the Perplexed, and started to read. I was, after all, perplexed, and could use a guide.
Author's Comment
I woke from dreaming of the images in the first sentence of this story, and knew I had to elaborate – but just a little bit.