Heather caught me online this morning, before I made it to the studio. She said it was too nice a day, we should “work” from her house. Dave was indifferent and agreed to play along. So I picked up a McGriddle and made my way out to her countryside abode.
I was suspicious of her motives, but driving away from the city on a day like this sounded good. Besides, Heather was being adamant.
“Is this an intervention?” I asked while we regarded a joint outside on the deck.
“What could we possibly intervene with you? Getting it up the butt too much?” (Heather has crude ideas about gay sex)
I laughed off the ass-crack, “I meant, for you! An intervention for you… (meaningless pause) Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Having your own intervention is… tacky.” She replied.
Dave arrived soonafter and decided, if he were to host his own intervention, it would be a lot better than this.
We rolled that idea around for a while while looking at the fall foliage. As the leaves drop, you can start to see a bend of the Ohio River far off in the distance from this vantage.
I thought out loud: “Having your own intervention is a good idea. Get all these people over and say that — I brought you together because I have a problem, and I’ll need your help.
See, I put up with a lot of bullshit, and it needs to stop. Then proceed to go around the group and single everyone out, telling them what annoys you.
Then we started drinking.