You walk up the stairs and cross the Harrington porch. Your limbs feel heavy and your mind is tired, yet active and sharp.

 You enter the house and find Margaret "Polly" Traina in the kitchen making Swedish meatballs. You give her a hug and sit down and take off your shoes.

 She says, "How was your day, dear?"

 Unfortunately, you don't have a response ready, so you end up telling her about the whole day, from beginning to end. In fact, you talk for nearly three hours. By the end, you're exhausted and Polly has burnt the roast.

 "Yeah, right, Dick. Do you expect me to believe that? I mean, are you sure it isn't your heart medication reacting with the No-Doz, or something? As in hallucinations? Maybe you spent the day asleep on the couch in your office, like normal."

 "No, I'm sure. I lived through it. It changed my life. It's just too bad it took something of this magnitude to make me understand how serious the problems on this campus are, and the unfortunate affects of my leadership, or lack thereof. God, I wish I had listened to Leon Bottstein^A fifteen years ago."

 A discussion of your many failures ensues. By the end of it, Polly has burned the cabbage.

 "Can't we get servants to do this cooking for us, Dick?" she asks brusquely.

 "No, I don't think that's an appropriate way to spend University money. Maybe I could buy a cookbook or two and we could both learn."

 Her eyes bug out and her jaw drops open. An oven mitt falls to the floor, forgotten. "Good lord," she says, "You have changed." She sits on a stool and looks you up and down with fresh eyes.

 You look at your watch...

Continued