Tiffany was up when I rose the next morning in some distress. Not as bad as it could have been due to the water and aspirin, but still bad. Tiffany had a robe over her night clothes, reading the Sunday paper. I came out and immediately downed another glass of water and more aspirin.

"Would you like some toast and eggs?" Tiffany asked, setting down the financial section.

"Not yet. My head and stomach still haven't caught up to the rest of me."

"Sorry to hear that. I felt reasonably good this morning, but you drank substantially more than me. Did it help?"

"The drinking or the conversation?"

"Either, both,"...