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"I dont want to ride a bike. I hate you."
"Thats enough out of you, Mister. Keep it up and Ill give you something to really cry about."
"I hate you. I hate you."
Did he really say, "Keep it up and Ill give you something to really cry about?" Did he hear himself say that and think, in the same moment the words were coming out of his mouth, "Hey, wait a minute. Isnt that exactly what I promised myself Id never say to my children?" All the while wondering whether that was him speaking or whether his father had temporarily inhabited his body.
Anyway, Ive decided the only way I can possibly keep my sunny, helpful disposition and hopefully my job intact for the winter tourists is to get out of Dodge for the summers and hide away where far fewer visitors drift through. Recognizing the urgency of my need, my Perfect Partner bought a nice cottage on a nice lake in the nice Cariboo where I can while away my summers without once having to give anybody the wrong directions to a place Id rather they didnt go. She can be free to indulge her own pressing need to putter in a garden and Zippy the Dog can stay in the lake until his skin wrinkles, if thats possible.
Thus begins the Kottage Khronicles.