And Since She Drove To Work Every

Thank You," I Say, Pounding His Back Probably Too Hard. "that Was The Best Damned Passenger-seat Driving I've Ever Seen In My Life." He Pats My Uninjured Cheek With His Greasy Hand. "i Did It To Save Myself, Not You," He Says. "believe Me When I Say That You Did Not Once Cross My Mind. " I Laugh. "nor You Mine," I Say.

But There's So Much To Do: Cigarettes To Smoke, Sex To Have, Swings To Swing On.

And He Was Feeling Not-unique In The Very Best Possible Way.

The Fundamental Mistake I Had Always Made - And That She Had, In Fairness, Always Led Me To Make - Was This: Margo Was Not A Miracle. She Was Not An Adventure. She Was Not A Fine And Precious Thing. She Was A Girl.

The United States Congress, Like A Lot Of Rich People, Lives In Two Houses.