“Wake up. Time to get up.”
“Hunh?”
It seemed like my head had barely hit the pillow and Sherry was already calling me to wake up.
“What’s going on? Why are you waking me at this time of day?”
“Because you have to catch a seven o’clock flight for Belize City. Come on. I’m fixing breakfast for a change.”
That perked me up. A few minutes later I stumbled into the kitchen as Sherry was pulling the bread from the toaster.
“Do you want the toast buttered or dry?” she asked, as I sipped my coffee.
“Buttered.”
“Hand me your plate,” she said and then cursed roundly as the toast quickly slid from the plate to the floor.
“Five-second rule!” I called. “If you pick it up within five seconds it’s not really dirty.”
“Not this time. It landed buttered side down. Why is it that when toast falls to the floor it always lands buttered side down?”
“You don’t believe that, do you?” I said. “That’s just a superstition.”
“No. It lands butter down every time. I’ll show you.”
The next pieces of toast popped up and she buttered them and put them on a plate. She shook the plate and the toast skittered off it and onto the floor.
“Ha!” I said, pointing. “See, this time it’s buttered side up. How do you explain that?”
“Oh, I see what happened,” she said. “I buttered the wrong side.”
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