“Leave out the particulars. What in God’s name are you doing?” “There you go again.” “I just asked a question. You can’t take care of yourself.” “That’s it. No matter what I say, you’re on my case. I’m too old. I should put my stiff one-eye in a safe-deposit box. I drink too much. I eat the wrong food. How about respecting my space for a change?” “I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re the best guy I’ve ever known. I worry about you.”
