One Year Later

So, it's October 31st, and I'm in my office behind my closed door, scrambling to get an entire curriculum edited in time for a deadline tomorrow. I'm in a tight battle with my computer, my editor and time, and suddenly someone starts banging on the doors.

I wince. I know it can only be Denyse or Paul. Only they know they can get away with such behavior. :)

I don't even have the time to grind out a "come in" before a man in period dress enters. I'm not sure. It's some sort of colonial garb, with a white wig, hat, tall boots, ruffle collar and of course, the ubiquitous sword.

I look at him. I recognize him. I stare at his face. But I can't figure out who he is. I stare. I stare and stare.

"MAN!" he moans and walks out. I hear him jokingly complaining that New Yorkers are so jaded, they don't respond to costumes any more.

I ponder his identity. And then I realize it's Paul. Whom I work with day after day, and have for the past 3.5 years.

He's shaved his beard.

It makes such a difference.

To think, had he kept his beard, I would have commented (or even noticed!!) that he was dressed out of another century. But without his beard, I could only fixate on his eyes and his stubble and wonder who the hell he was!

And so another Halloween passes with my ignorance. Not unlike the last time. :)

Oh, Paul, on the phone: