"I'm welding the chassis together with the transmission scattered all over the garage floor and you want to pick out leather seats," I said. "First things first."
"What?" he asked, confused.
"First things first," I replied.
"What was all that car stuff?"
"A metaphor," I said. "An illustration."
"An illustration of what?"
"First things first." It seemed like a pretty clear illustration to me.
"I'm pretty sure," he said smugly, "that car manufacturers pick out the leather seats before they start welding the chassis together."
I sighed and shook my head.
"And why scatter the transmission all over the garage floor? You'll lose something."
"We're still," I said with exasperation, "laying the groundwork. Your questions are premature."
"Are you going to gather up the transmission before we lose something?"
"What?"
"The transmission. Are you going to..."
"Yes," I snapped, standing to go. "I'll go to the garage right now."
"In this metaphor, is the garage your office?"
But I was already ignoring him, heading for the garage.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
