Please use note as basis for shopping list. Also no jelly. Bread without jelly = morning without sunshine. Please fix. Mom. PS. You’re on your own tonight, editorial conference.” Which meant a, that she would be having dinner with one of the senior editors, which meant pretty soon she’d start bringing him home and I’d have to “relate” to him somehow or other; and b, that when she’d left for work, the linoleum was still on the kitchen floor, or she would have mentioned it. All I found there was this disgusting dried-up black glue to walk on. I mean, she would have hit the ceiling so hard you could hear it on the East Side. So it’s not surprising that I flunked the math test. All I could think about was the kitchen floor: that and what else might suddenly disappear. Suppose somebody decided to “take” the whole sixth floor of my building, and suppose I was home at the time? Not that there was any sensible reason to take our apartment, but what was sensible about taking the linoleum from our kitchen floor?
