(sound of the door slightly creaking open, then footsteps on the wooden floor)

- Hi Honey!

- (low and worn) Yea, hi.

- Oh, you look tired.  Are you tired, dear?  Let's get your coat off...how bout some dinner.

- Okay.

- Here, take your seat.  It's already warm and ready.  There you go, sweety.

- (husband sits back with wistful sigh). Oh, I'm beat.  Old man Marley has been riding me all week about those new accounts.  "Where are the facts and figures, David? Do you have the facts and figures?"  Yea, I got some facts for him, but not enough figures to--Wait a minute, where is the garnish?  You have to garnish, Woman.  Where is the goddamn garnish?

- Your mother pickled it.  It'll be ready next winter.

- Don't talk like that.

- All my jars are sealed with cucumbers in the garage.

- I said don't talk like that.

- My celery and peppers are missing.  I couldn't make a salad.

- She knows what she's doing.

- And I don't?  What's that supposed to mean?  

- (drops his utensils) Oh, with the dramatics!

- I suppose I should empty the detergent and leave the containers out?

- (goes back to eating) That's between you two.

- No, David.  It's between you and I.

- You and me.

- David!

- Look, if you want to put her in a home, we'll put her in a home.  Have it your way.  Any way you want it.

- You're just saying that because you're hungry.

- You want us to move?  There are the classifieds.  But may I first suggest you ease back on your organic agenda.  You spend enough at Whole Foods to match my paycheck and Sal's.

- (Pandora walks away grumbling) What's it matter, she's just going to want us to move down the street and visit her every night.

- What's that, Honey?  I can't hear you, these are some great rosemary potatoes.