Is it just me, or do we all hit a point where certain periods in life seem so remote that they seem to have happened to someone else?

Dr. T and I took turns yesterday filling in the gaps of our common history at the job where we met. He provided thumbnail sketches of our former colleagues, and I gave them names. The roster began with a guy who routinely came into the office hours after we were expected (that’s another story) saying that he had been “having breakfast with one of my snitches.”

I am fairly certain that no one bought this, in that although we were investigators, we were not in law enforcement, and there was nothing in our duties which would require the engagement of a “snitch.” It was a running joke among my work friends, particularly since any one of us could avoid having to hit our desk at 8:00 a.m. by phoning in to say we were starting our day “in the field,” a far more elegant (and credible) explanation.

Back to that guy. I’ve always wondered whether he believed that we believed him, or whether he even believed it himself. There is something to said for a rich fantasy life…

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