On Rehab, Orgasmatrons & Ottomans

Returning to the couch to fill in the blanks.

TP: Really good to see you again, Little. I don’t mind telling you, I was worried.

LM: Didn’t think I’d bounce back, doc?

TP: Well, you know, a nervous breakdown’s pretty serious stuff. Not everyone snaps out of it.

LM: Nah, I’m good now, doc. That little stint in rehab did the trick.

TP: What pushed you over the edge? It seemed like you were doing so good, adjusting especially well, I thought, to Bugsy’s arrival last year.

LM: Yeh, it wasn’t the kid’s fault, annoying little dweeb that he is. I lay a lot of this at mom and dad’s feet, mainly dad’s.

TP: How so? I thought you and your dad were tight.

LM: Oh, we are. It’s just that things at the house got turned inside out this year. A LOT of projects—some planned, some not, all disruptive to my previously well-ordered lifestyle.

TP: That’s it? Some house projects threw you over the edge?

LM: Listen, doc, you’ve heard about that one final stupid straw that breaks the equally stupid camel’s back? There’s a limit, you know?

TP: True, I get that.

LM: Dad screwed up. He should have listened to mom. See, she wanted to downsize. You know, move into a place where somebody else manicures the forest and deals with the problems. But nooo! Old dad wouldn’t have it.

TP: So…

LM: So they make a deal. Mom says, “If we’re staying here a little longer, I want to redecorate.” Dad figures he can live with that, so he agrees. Bad move! Read more →