Ray Rasmussen

Mulling

I sit in darkness, fireplace embers smoldering, the bottle of Pinot Noir almost empty. Earlier I read an article suggesting that we derive our feelings of well being from how closely our friendship abilities match those of our friends, so I send Bob an email:

Dear Bob, I have good news and bad news. Had I rated myself as a “2” on Everyday Psychology’s friendship ability scale, you would be seen as a suitable friend. The bad news is that I rated myself at "9" (modesty prevented me from using a “10”) and you at “1”, so we’re too far apart to be a good match. I know that you’re likely thinking that some of this has to do with Linda. But let me assure you that it doesn’t. The good news is that she too rates a “1”, roughly the equivalent to that of a Slime Mold. This explains why you two are doing so well.

The next day, I receive a complaint from the Slime Slander Society. Their woolly-headed biologist claims that I've unfairly stereotyped Slime Molds, and were I to open my mind, I'd find they play an important ecological role in the decomposition of organic material. I reply that I am well aware of their value since I had only to open my fridge after Linda left to see them playing their vital role. I wonder whether Bob put them onto me.

winter storm
the acrid taste
of stale wine