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You may recall, that I get out of bed somewhere between 4:30 and 5:30 almost every day depending on how late I stayed up, how many times I woke up, and how often the cat criss-crossed my chest during the night. Sometimes it also depends on what mischief my subconscious is making. This morning, a Jerry Seinfeld dream kept me in bed until almost six. His monologue was that good, even though he was wearing a tacky red suit and shouting by the side of a gravel road like an soul-saving itinerant preacher in search of a revival tent. The Seinfeld dream came after going back to sleep to recover from a 3:00 am near-nightmare about a sex cult. Well, not really a cult but a thriving business catering to midddle-age couples. There were three of us couples involved–I can’t tell you who because you may know them and ask about their fetishes and, you know, other stuff. So, the way this titillating and intriguing business worked was that we each were assigned a partner with whom to have an educational and rollicking sex frolic. I met my partner and while he was young, much younger than me, he looked like a toad, just flat out unfixably ugly. In spite of that, he seemed confident, not necessarily enthusiastic, yet ready to slog through our encounter like the stalwart sex soldier he evidently was. But, first, he asked to examine my underwear. I got worried, trying to remember the last time I changed it. He saw my panicked face and, with a bored sigh, condescended to tell me that lacy, lovely bras and panties were a requirement to participate. Lace? Who knew? So while he turned around looking for his latex gloves, I opened a door to exit and there standing beside a bed was a dolled-up, teddie-wearing sex-tart. My husband was sitting at a desk nearby, reading the Wall Street Journal. He glanced up when he heard the door and gave me a look that said Uh huh and what are you doing?

Of course, I started to explain, but lucky for me, it all came out as gibberish and, suddenly, I felt all frolicked out, content to stop my car, offer Jerry a ride, and drive off looking for redemption.