There was a lunchtime conversation one day last school year involving names of “evil” twins.
It’s a woman thing. We have days each month when hormones get the best of us and we need to be able to blame our sometimes (or as Hub would say, OFTENtimes) irrational behaviors on something or someone not ourselves.
The participants in this conversation included the world’s greatest librarian and the rest of our lunchtime crowd. Everybody, except me, was able to come up with a name for their evil twin. There are times when I come up dry in the “creativity” department. That day was one of those times.
Months have passed since that conversation.
I finally have a name for my “evil” twin, thanks to Hub:
Hub had a dream last night that he, my twin, and I were racing. My twin, Claudine, kept tripping him.
Hub couldn’t help but notice the smile crossing my face while he was speaking.
I recounted the aforementioned conversation for him and told Hub that I’m happy because my “evil” twin finally has a name.
He looked at me with a very concerned look in his eyes and said,
“Hon, there’s medication for that.”