I always forget something at the store. Sometimes I forget that we’re out of butter. Sometimes I forget the toothpaste. Sometimes Carmen needs pimentos or whatever other crap thing her new recipe calls for. So I’ve got to go back out or stop at the store the next day. I hate shopping for just one thing though. I feel uncomfortable somehow waiting in line at the checkout with just a gallon of milk or just a loaf of bread. So I always figure out one or two other things to pick up. This time I got peanut butter and some popcorn. Carmen never gets that stuff when she goes shopping, so it’s not on the list when she writes it. I was still looking for the last thing though, the thing I stopped for.
I was kind of wandering the aisles by then, when I ran into myself. There I was, all of five foot six, rounding at the middle, even wearing the same clothes. “Hey, Ray.”
“Oh, hi Ray. How’s it going?”
“I wouldn’t complain if only I knew where to find bay leaves. Where the hell are bay leaves in the store?”
“Wish I knew. What does she want them for again?”
“Some new recipe she found online.”
“Yeah,” he said to me, “I’d work overtime for a month if she’d stay away from the computer for a week.”
I chuckled. I love it when I can make myself laugh. I warned him, “Don’t get that one, Ray. You picked up light.”
“Oh god, you’re right. I don’t even know what the weird taste in that is. Here’s the real stuff.”
We looked each other up and down at that point. We always do. I saw his disappointment, and I shared it. “We shouldn’t wear that shirt with those shorts. We’re really starting to look like we’ve got that middle aged, don’t give a damn thing going on.”
“Yeah. See you around, Ray.”
I walked away, ready again to hunt down the vegetable that I had never purchased before. The joke was on me. Bay leaves aren’t a vegetable. They’re a spice. The other me probably didn’t know that either.
I suppose at this point you’re wondering if I’m crazy. This isn’t a Calvin and Hobbes, is it real or is it imagination situation though. When I run into myself, I’m not usually the only one there. Other people react.
For example, I had a hamburger with myself not long ago. I heard my voice from behind. Two places back in line was me. “Hey, Ray. Come on up. I’ll buy your lunch today.”
Things were hectic behind the counter, so the girl at the register hadn’t noticed me and me until we were right in front of her. Imagine her surprise. “Oh! Uh, are you guys brothers?”
That would be a stupid question under any normal circumstance. However, “No, we’re the same guy. Two different places at once, but at the same place currently.”
“Uh, right. What’ll you have?”
“I’ll have a number five. What do you want Ray?”
She couldn’t help it. “If you’re the same guy, then shouldn’t you already know what he wants?”
“Do you always get the same thing every time you order?”
“… I guess I don’t.”
Ray said, “I will have the number five though. Hold the pickles though.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, “hold the pickles on mine too.”
It’s like that. The people around, they see us and wonder. They look at the double person. I guess most assume we’re twins. Not a lot of grown men dress the same as their twin though. Or do they? I guess I don’t see twins any more often than anyone else.
Anyway, me and Ray, we sat and ate our food. We gabbed about the basketball game that had been on the night before. We tried to decide what new movie we wanted to see that weekend. I hadn’t made up my mind, and that meant he hadn’t either. Between the two of us though, we decided to see the screwball comedy rather than the action film. I ended up seeing both eventually, so I know there was no right answer. It was an answer though.
That’s the good thing about my situation. I know everyone talks to themselves at times, but when I do it, it’s a literal thing. You’d be surprised how much more efficient talking to yourself is when you do it for real.
That came in real handy when I was picking Carmen’s anniversary present. “Ray.”
“Ray. I, uh, I’ve already been down this aisle. I didn’t see anything worthwhile.”
“Yeah, okay. I was thinking about that watch she noticed a couple weeks ago.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot about that. What about the spa certificates though? I know we do that about every other year, but it’s still always a good idea.”
“Hm. I don’t know.”
“Ray, the watch is kind of pricey.”
“I’ve already been over that. Haven’t you? We can afford it.”
“I know we can. I’ll tell you the truth though, I’m not all that sure she’ll appreciate it for that long.”
“It was your idea, man.”
“Your idea too.”
Well, you can tell that Ray and I don’t always agree. Not at first anyway. That’s kind of the point. When you debate things with other people, you never know for sure how that’s going to end. With me and myself, we always end up coming to the same conclusion. That’s not only useful. It’s comfortable. There’s a solace in it. I’m like everyone else. I can get nervous or insecure. After I see myself though, I usually feel better about whatever’s troubling me.
There have been a few times that I’ve needed that without having it. I guess more than a few. It’s not like I run into myself every day. What I mean is that there have been a few times that I’ve really needed someone to talk to. Like that time Carmen and I were fighting about our parents. Her parents and my parents don’t get along. When the six of us are together for any reason, you can almost count on some kind of slight or insult. After that, Carmen and I have to deal with it. We try not to let their pettiness become ours. When Alice, that’s Carmen’s mom, was bragging on and on about Brock, Carmen’s brother, it got on everyone’s nerves. I’m pretty sure that even Carmen’s Dad got a bit annoyed with it. Alice wasn’t just talking like a proud mother. She was directing it all to my Mom. She was doing it like she was showing off that her son was so much more accomplished. Yeah, more accomplished than me. That turned ugly. For some reason, Carmen couldn’t or wouldn’t see how rude her mother had been. She insisted that her mother was just that proud of Brock and nothing else. We argued and we kept arguing. We argued the next day. We argued the day after that.
I had trouble handling that one. I can handle an argument. I can even handle a fight that goes on for days. Carmen and I can be that stubborn. What gave me such indigestion was that Carmen was so obviously wrong. She was being entirely unreasonable, and she wouldn’t back off a bit. I didn’t know how to handle that. So I went out. I hoped to find myself out there, just to talk to someone who would actually talk.
People talk about searching for themselves. It isn’t any fun when you can’t find yourself. I tried just wandering. I tried running some errands. I got a drink at my favorite bar. I went to the bowling alley where I had played some frames against myself. I wasn’t anywhere. So that meant I was just some lost, tubby schmuck driving around without getting anywhere. I felt defeated by the time I gave up on it.
I don’t know why I wasn’t out there. Carmen is one of the things I talk about the most when I’m with myself. I love being able to say her name, Carmen, and have someone know who I’m talking about without clarification. Ray calls her Carmen just like I do. Only when she’s out of earshot though. It’s her name, but it’s not what we all call her. Our friends, even her family, they call her by her nickname. I met Carmen back in college. She was calling herself Karma. She dropped the N and made her name sound poetic and cosmic. Years later I can see the unintended irony. So, when she’s not around, I call her by her given name. So does Ray, and that’s great. I really wanted to see him so that I could say her proper name as often as possible while angry with her. It just doesn’t mean as much when no one’s listening.
Eventually Karma and I made up. I can’t remember if she ever apologized, but she did sort of admit that she was wrong. Even after that there was tension for a while. During that time I never saw myself. Was that significant? It seems so now.
The next time I saw Ray, it was at a donut shop. I didn’t have much time to talk then. We just sort of acknowledged that we hadn’t seen each other when it was important. Then we bought our stuff and left. We both got an order of a dozen donuts. I wondered then if the donuts that he bought ended up at the same place as the ones I bought. Were they the same donuts? Did they become the same donuts after we bought them? I’ll never know.
I can tell you that I never see my car anywhere before I see Ray. Even in a small parking lot there is no sign of my beat up, blue sedan. He’s just in there somewhere. We never leave at the same moment. Or rather, when we do, we go different directions. I never follow myself. If I did, that would probably confuse him, since he would probably also be following me. Besides, do I really want to understand it?
Let me correct myself though. The car. I guess I did see my car when I met him once. There he was, standing next to his/my car. I got out of my/his car. They were as identical as he and I. “On empty,” Ray and I said at the same time. That’s why the universe made a car exception that time, I guess. We were both filling up.
“Nice weather, today, huh?”
“Really, Ray? The weather?”
“Sorry. Sometimes I forget that you’re me.” He saw that the lady at a nearby pump was staring. He told her, “You can wake up now. You’re just dreaming, Clarice.”
She started, but then she corrected him. “My name’s not Clarice.”
“Darn,” he said. “How awesome would that have been?” He and I had a good laugh.
I should have just left well enough alone. I should have just let my little ambiguities go on unchecked. I guess I felt like I needed a bit more. I wasn’t entirely in agreement with myself. I know that happens to everyone. How often are you undecided on something important, and you stay that way? Me and myself, we didn’t like any kind of serious debate. We’d rather talk about things that we always agree on. Like Carmen.
Me and Karma, me and Carmen, we’re a typical sort of couple. I’m pretty sure that when we first met it was real. I remember that. We were passionate. I’ve said that to her a few times, but she just shrugs it off by saying, “We were young. What do you expect?”
What do I expect? I guess I expect what I deserve. I deserve better than breakfast cereal and sitcoms. I should have some moments that are more than that. I don’t have them. I studied accounting in college. Back when other people were art students and philosophy majors, I was only learning the necessary and the practical. I guess that’s what attracted me to Karma back when she really was Karma. She was this hippie kind of girl. She had plans that I think even she didn’t believe. It wasn’t the plans that mattered though. It was the motive. She knew who she wanted to be. She spent her time being. That’s a profound thing, really, and now it’s gone. I don’t know when she grew her N back, but she never noticed. The terrible thing is that I think I might be to blame. The years with me cost her. I don’t know that for sure. I never have talked with her about it. I can’t. Carmen and I don’t discuss important things. We don’t discuss big things. We don’t discuss ethereal things. We just muddle through our lives, taking turns picking the movie to watch and correcting our bad habits when they get to be too much. Is that enough for a marriage? All I want are words. I don’t care if they don’t amount to much. We lost them a long time ago.
See, that’s the problem with me. With the me that I run into, I mean. I didn’t talk about these things with me any more than I did with Carmen. Did I want to? Yes and no.
I saw myself on the sidewalk. I decided to treat myself to breakfast. It was the first time that I ever broached the big subjects, and I still didn’t manage to touch them. The waitress arrived and looked back and forth at us. She didn’t even ask. “My name’s Sue. I’ll be your server this morning. You need more time with the menus?”
“Yep. Neither I nor I know what I want yet.”
“I nor I,” she repeated.
“We’re the same guy,” Ray said. “Same address, same house, same wife, same job.”
“Okay. Will there be more than one order?”
See, now that’s the way Karma would have handled that situation back in college. I asked her, “It doesn’t bother you?”
“What he means,” Ray said, “is that you don’t really believe us.”
“Well, I figure it isn’t any of my business if you’re two men or one. You’re more fun than most people who sit in this booth though. I’ll be back when you’re ready.”
“She’s getting a big tip,” I said.
“Yeah,” Ray agreed. He opened his menu and got real involved in it. I don’t know if that’s because he knew what was coming.
I managed to find the right breakfast at about the same time he did. I don’t know if we picked the same thing or not. I asked him, “You know what I’ve been thinking?”
He shook his head. I think he was hoping that I was going to talk about buying a new car.
“We aren’t what we used to be.”
“I know that.”
“Is this really enough?”
“How many other people get to eat breakfast with themselves?”
“I’m serious, Ray. We used to go to church.”
“That was a long time ago, and I don’t think we ever really believed.”
“That’s not what I’m after. I just want to talk about it. I mean, do we believe in God? I don’t really know.”
“Oh, come on, man.”
Sue arrived right then. “Made up your mind yet, gentlemen?”
“Yeah, I’ll have the sausage and pepper omelet. Hash browns. One egg over easy.”
Ray sighed and looked out the window. “I’ll just have a cup of coffee.”
I didn’t want to leap in while the waitress was standing there, but what choice did I have? “Ray! I’m sorry, okay? We’ll table it for now.”
“Just a coffee,” he repeated. “I’ve got things to do.”
You can imagine the conversation that followed that. A man shouldn’t be that kind of uneasy when he’s talking to himself. We left the universe alone and we did talk about a new car. We didn’t come to any conclusion though.
That was the start of it. The next time I ran into Ray, it was at the bus stop. The car, the one we didn’t replace, it was in the shop. So we ended up waiting for the same bus. “Hi, Ray.”
“Hey. Sorry about the other day.”
That was weird. I was about to say that. I remember wanting to talk about more. So did he. I don’t really remember wanting to avoid the conversation. Not clearly, anyway. So this Ray and I both remembered one side of the conversation more clearly than the other. Was it always that way? I didn’t know. My talks with Ray didn’t usually have follow ups.
We sat side by side on the bus. It took several minutes before he worked up the nerve to say, “I still think we ought to talk more. I mean, talk bigger, if you know what I mean. I’ll shut up if you want me to though.”
“No, no. I think I agree.” I felt real good about that, but at the same time I felt an obligation to myself to play both sides of the debate. “I think that probably we should start slow though. Okay? Let’s not force it.”
“Sure. I thought that maybe I could make a list of things that we might think about.”
“Yeah. I thought the same thing.”
Our conversation took a sudden turn though. Ray realized it. “Are you going to work?”
“Yeah. Aren’t you? Wait a moment!” We stared at each other in shock. We always parted ways. We were never going to the same place, or at least we weren’t taking the same route. This time we had no choice. We were on the same bus.
I did not want this paradox to become a real consideration. “Okay. Here’s the thing. I’ll get off one stop early and walk. How’s that?”
“Sure. Wait. I’ll get off one stop early. Because you’re the one that thought of it.”
“What difference does that make?”
“None, I hope.”
We dodged a bullet or a nerf dart. I’m not sure which.
Several days later, when we saw each other again, it was in a waiting room. I had a doctor’s appointment, the old finger where it shouldn’t be thing. When I took my seat, I saw Ray sitting on the other side of the room. “Oh!”
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said. That joke’s a lot funnier in that circumstance, but only when you’re in on it.
Of course I moved over to where I could to talk to myself easier. “Our time here is kind of limited.”
“It always is.”
“So, uh, where do you want to start?”
“I guess where I wanted to start that day in the diner. You remember, right?”
I had a theological discussion with myself, much to the annoyance of the people around who were really just trying to do the polite, silent, waiting room thing. I’ve got admit that it wasn’t a deep discussion anyway. Me and Ray, we were only getting our feet wet in the ideas. We weren’t about to go in the water without testing it first. It turned out okay. I was easy to talk to. We had pauses that didn’t feel comfortable, but at least they weren’t traumatic. In fact, the only real awkwardness came when a nurse called our name. “Ray Melendez?”
We both stood at once. She saw that and was stunned speechless for a moment. I looked myself in the eye. “Well this is a decision.”
“I was here first, but if you want…”
“Of course I don’t want. And since we don’t really both have to do this, I’m going to go get an ice cream cone instead. See you later, Ray.”
I made my escape quickly. I’d feel bad about that, but I was really only cheating myself. And besides, I do remember the prostate exam vividly like I always do. So it didn’t help, but at least I got some ice cream and a moment of self satisfaction at my own expense.
I ran into myself at the post office two days later. That didn’t provide a real theater for philosophy, so I just talked about those shelves I had considered building. It was like that for the most part. Maybe the reason I hadn’t delved into myself more was that I usually didn’t have the opportunity.
Once I started though, I ended up seeing more of myself in places that let me enjoy it. I got to sit next to myself at a baseball game. I had more meals with Ray. I once even took a walk with him, which was something we never did before. We just ran into each other on the sidewalk and sort of kept ambulating.
Even when it was just me and not I and I, things were different. I spent more time at the library. I was reading things that I had never gotten to. I was getting too bored to watch TV regularly. I was growing. Carmen was not. On my own, I think I would not only have grown; I would have flourished. I see a lot more of my wife than I see of myself though. I tried to take her with me. It wasn’t that hard, after all. I wasn’t exactly Jean Paul Sartre. I was just an average man who wanted more than his living room. It still seemed to be too much for her. So, after a while, I kept quiet at home. She noticed. It wasn’t just the lack of meaningful conversation. It was a lack of any conversation. She called me on that, but she did it gently. She thought something was wrong. She even thought she might have done something wrong. How could I explain it? I couldn’t. And the fact was that I still saw Karma in her sometimes. It was a fleeting moment, a flash of the old glory, nothing more. It might even have been just my imagination. I loved her though. Maybe I didn’t feel the magic, to turn a trite phrase, but I did still love her. So I compromised. I didn’t tell her. I just sort of let myself be the small, ordinary man she wanted in her life.
Home life was okay. I felt like a kid at school though, waiting for the last bell. There was no telling when it would happen. When would I get to see myself again? In a way I was cheating on my wife. It wasn’t an affair. I was just indulging in intellect that she couldn’t provide. I had been going to bed with the same woman every night for over twenty years. I loved that. I wasn’t tired of her the way a husband is supposed to be. But I had been having stale conversations with her for at least the last ten years. It was boring.
I don’t know how things were for her. I don’t know if it was hard. I don’t know if she tried to talk to me about it or not. I’ve already told you that I tried to talk to her about it. We just couldn’t get together. We had started with poetry and we had ended up a limerick. But at least we had devolved at the same rate. Now that I was pushing my boundaries, however guardedly, we were losing common ground.
It was inevitable, I guess. I tried to let my mind fall back into the old rhythm. But then I’d see myself on a street corner or at a shopping mall or something. Whenever I had time, I’d stop and have a bite or something. A few times I took myself to the movies. It was great talking about a movie I just saw with myself. I could pick apart the flaws in the plot without being chastised for it. I could laugh at the same low brow humor. I couldn’t resist my own company.
I wasn’t miserable with Carmen. I was happy when she wasn’t there. She had never seen two of me ever. That never happened when she and I were out. It was only without her that I could be myself. So she noticed. Maybe she wasn’t complex the way she had been in her youth, but she was still sharp. “You’re brooding again, Ray.”
“Huh? No I’m not. I’m just thinking.”
“Well think a little bit softer, would you?”
See? She’s clever sometimes. “Sorry, Karma. I’ve just felt distracted lately.”
“All the time.”
Only then did I see the disappointment on her. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”
“You can tell me what’s wrong. Something’s happened. Or something’s different.”
“I don’t know. I tried before. I think I’m just tired of the same old life.”
“So what do you want?”
“I don’t want anything different. I just want more than waking up, working, wasting time and going to bed. Can’t we do something? Go to a museum? Join a book club? Something.”
“I guess I didn’t realize… Sure. Why not?”
She tried. I’ve got to give her that. She just didn’t have it in her anymore. When I’d see a flicker of life in her, that would be gone the next day when she’d want to talk about the scandal some movie star was in.
I couldn’t keep the itch away. I couldn’t keep myself from wondering when my next real conversation would take place. So I fell back into the bad habits that bothered her. “You know, Ray, I’ve tried. I really have. I just don’t know what’s wrong with you.”
She had that sound. It was like a bull scraping the ground before it charges. Well I wasn’t going to be a matador this time. I was going to collide with her head on. This was what I wanted. It would be angry and ugly, but at least it would be real. “You don’t know what’s wrong with me? I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me. I don’t know who you voted for. Ever.”
“You make world decisions. I don’t know what they are. We never talk about it.”
“Well Ray, we agreed that we would let each other have our own politics.”
“That doesn’t mean that we can’t talk about it. It doesn’t mean that we can’t talk about things that are important. That and everything else. Carmen, I love you, but I don’t know what’s in your head anymore.”
“What did you call me?”
Oops. I should have said it was a mistake. I should have apologized. I should have backtracked by saying she must have misheard. I didn’t do any of those things. “You’re forty six years old. Don’t you think you’re a little old to still be calling yourself Karma? You haven’t been Karma for at least a decade. You outgrew it.”
She slapped me. It was like something you see in the movies that you never see in real life. Never in our marriage had either of us raised a hand. Then she slapped me so hard that the sound alone was painful. I got my car keys and walked out.
I didn’t have to wait for the next thing. I set out right away to the only place I would go. It was childish, but I was going to the hardware store, no matter what. Those shelves that I mentioned before? Those are my shelves. I wanted them. Carmen didn’t. She and I had talked about it for a couple weeks. She thought we didn’t have enough room. I told her the shelves would be on my side of our bedroom. She got upset that I thought half the room was hers and half was mine. It was a stupid fight. Every married couple has them. This was one I didn’t care about. I had set the idea aside. I just hadn’t really pursued the project. I was going to start it right away. I know how petty that was. I wasn’t doing it to make a point or anything. I just wanted to do something for myself, especially if my silent N wife didn’t want me to.
I forgot my list, so I had to go from memory. That meant I couldn’t get everything I needed. While I got some of the things I needed, I saw myself. We made eye contact before either of us said a word. Then, “Do you remember exactly what kind of wood screws we were supposed to pick up?”
“She’s already called twice.”
“I ignored it. So I guess you did too.”
“I’m too irritated to do this. Do you want to leave or should I?”
“Don’t be like that. I think we really need to talk. Who, wait! What in the world? Ray!”
He wasn’t shouting to me. There was another one. You can imagine our surprise. Then again, maybe you can’t. It isn’t just everyone who keeps their own company the way I do. But there’s only ever two of me. That day there was a third. The three of us stood in a circle, arguing about whether or not we had anything to argue about. Some hapless store employee rounded the corner at the wrong moment. “Can I help you find UH! Can I, uh, help you gentlemen find anything?”
“Don’t be like that, Ray.”
“Right.” I apologized to the guy, but I did still send him on his way.
“She really did a number on our face,” one of me said.
Another rubbed that spot. She had left a considerable bruise. “This is not what I’m bothered by.”
“What are we going to do about her? Anything?”
Then three cell phones went off at once. All of us answered. “Yeah.”
Carmen had something to say, but she started with, “Ray? There’s a weird echo on your phone.”
“What do you want, Carmen? CarmeN! CarmennNNN!”
“Stop it, Ray.”
One of my other selves told her, “I’m going to carry that N for you from now on. You deserve it.”
The third Ray told her, “Look, I’m sorry. I am. But I don’t think you are.”
I let his apology slide even though I thought he shouldn’t have said it. I did add, “I’m at the hardware store. I’m picking up stuff for those shelves you didn’t want.”
“Seriously, Ray? That’s your response?”
“What, Carmen?” The other two Rays said that at the same time. “You hit me and then you accuse me of being immature?”
I won’t bore you with the rest of our phone call. It didn’t end well. I eventually found my way back to the house. Either I did, or one of the other Rays did. I’m not sure which, but the result is the same. I didn’t buy anything to build the shelves. Carmen and I didn’t say much. I can’t say we went to bed angry, but we went to bed quiet. That was far worse.
The next morning was horrifying. We didn’t even talk about our fight. We went quietly about the business of getting ready for the day. I went to work and wondered what I should do. It looked like I didn’t have to do anything. But what was I going to call her when I got home?
I had hoped that I’d be there for lunch. I wasn’t. It was just me, alone without another Ray to talk to. I wish I could say that work was hard or that I wasn’t at my best. Unfortunately I went through it all too easily. It was as though I was unaffected. Except that I wasn’t. Underneath my actions, I felt the betrayal. I felt the betrayal of years of settling for blandness. I didn’t know how much of that was me and how much was her. The result was what mattered. How I got there was immaterial.
On the drive home, my phone went off. I thought it was Carmen. It wasn’t. I almost crashed the car when I heard my own voice on the phone. “Ray? How did you call me?”
“You’re going to call her Karma.”
“I’m thinking what you’re thinking. I’m thinking it differently though.”
“Ray, what are you talking about?”
“You’re going to go home, where I don’t want to be. I could live with that. But you’re going to forget the N. You’re going to chicken out. You’re going to call her Karma again. You’re going to pretend that she is who she was. When you do that, you’ll forget who you were. It will be gone. I won’t do that. I’m not going to let her pretend to be Karma.”
“Ray? Are you there?” He wasn’t. He had hung up on me. I pulled off the street as soon as I had the chance. I tried to call my own number. That didn’t work. Later on I realized that I must have called myself from another phone. I didn’t figure that out in time. I was too upset by what I’d said. I mean what Ray had said to me when he called. I was still in a daze. At the very least I should have bought the wood screws. That would have been some kind of defiance. Instead I drove home. Karma was waiting for me. She had made those special butterscotch cookies she knows I like. We had them while we watched some crap movie that I had thought I wanted to see.
We didn’t talk much about it. We had to say a few things. She said she was sorry. She said it a lot, actually. She didn’t know what came over her. She would do it different if she had it to do over. I knew she meant all of it. I also knew that nothing was going to change. I never said the N again, not where she could hear. I just woke up, went to work, wasted time and went to bed. I did that again and again. I still don’t know what kind of thoughts she has. I don’t know that she has any.
I never see myself anymore. Ray meant what he said when he called me. I like to think that means that there’s some part of me out there living a real life. Whether there is or there isn’t, I’m here at home with Karma. I’ve lost a part of myself, and I don’t think I can ever get it back.
This is my first ever response to the weekly Writing Challenge. I’d had this idea for a while, but I wasn’t sure exactly what to do with it. I think it’s all right for something I put together in just a couple days.