I was startled by the doorbell. I had been standing with a knife in hand, considering the possibility that it would somehow find its way deep into the chest cavity of my friend Nina, who was reading me an article from the paper on the kitchen table. Not that I had ever before stabbed anyone with a paring knife. Not that I harbored any kind of ill will against Nina. Sometimes my brain just decides to hitch a ride on a train of thought going exactly the wrong direction, and there's not much I can do about it but wave goodbye and wait for it to catch the 5-Second Express coming back.
I smiled at Nina politely as I derailed the thoughts and retrieved a package left at my front door. LL Bean. Not for me.