M y potatoes had eyes. I held up two of them to the light as if I wasn’t sure they were there — they were. Not that I couldn’t pluck them out but for a moment I debated whether to get dressed leave the house and get new ones.
The phone rang. I reached for it. I’d just cut the eyes out of the potatoes.
“Hello?”
“Hi Abby it’s Chana.”
Chana?
“Chana Schwartzberg the secretary.” She filled in. Oh right her of course she’s Chana like I don’t know any other Chanas — actually I don’t they’re all Chanies.
“Hi how are you?” I tried sounding genuine because so far she’s been really nice and funny but why was she calling?
