"I don't like it when you make me seem eccentric," Chuck grumbled.

Eccentric? Why should he think that I was implying such a thing when of course I wasn't. I wasn't implying that he was eccentric at all. I was merely accusing him of the ultimate act of procrastination. Because here we were on the plane going home from our vacation in Southern France. And there he was, checking the guide book to see what we'd missed when we were there.

It's true that neither of us likes preparing for trips. Still, it seemed to me that if he were going to consult a guide book, the logical time to do it is before a trip, not after. It actually makes very little sense to consult a guide book after a trip and I'm fairly positive that not too many people do it.

Still I certainly didn't mean to hurt his feelings. Much less imply that he was eccentric. So "I'm sorry," I said. I certainly didn't mean to make him feel eccentric just because he procrastinates all the time. Everyone knows that procrastination and eccentricity are two entirely different things. I enjoyed thinking of what I could write about such a distinction if I wanted to. I could use Chuck as an example.

While Chuck went back to checking the guidebook, I realized that I was hungry. I remembered the bag of croissants we'd brought along and I extracted one of the croissants to eat.

Just then, Chuck looked up from his guidebook. "Besides," he countered, "you're the one who's eccentric. You peel croissants."

"I know. I do. It's true," I agreed. I secretly found this tactic a trifle mean-spirited. But I do peel croissants. This might be considered by some people to be eccentric, but it isn't. On the contrary, it happens to be quite logical. For the following reason. I've discovered that the outer layer of pastry on a croissant is a lot crisper than the inside is. And I happen to prefer my pastry crisp. For anyone who prefers their pastry crisp, this happens to be a perfectly sensible way to eat croissants. In fact, it happens to be the only sensible way.

But I wanted to placate Chuck. "It is eccentric," I agreed insincerely. Actually, come to think of it, maybe it even was. To people like Chuck. "Look who's writing about who," I mumbled to myself. Ungrammatically.

After I carefully removed the outer layer of the croissant, I gave the inside to Chuck. He always enjoys the inside of my croissants. He ate it quickly. He seemed hungry, too.

"Would you like a muffin bottom?" I asked. I happened to have two muffin bottoms left over. Because I've also discovered that muffin tops are a lot crisper than muffin bottoms.

"No," he said contemptuously. Chuck will always eat the inside of any of my croissants. But for some reason, he disdains muffin bottoms.

Meanwhile, he returned impatiently to the guide book. He was becoming really involved now. It seems as if he was discovering lots of places we'd missed. Great places that we would really have liked to go to if we'd known about them. And to think that we might have, too. If only Chuck would read guide books before we take a trip instead of after.

But I guess that if you like to procrastinate as much as he does, it really is a lot more fun to read the guide book when the trip is over. I sighed as I thought of all the places we might have seen if we'd only known about them in time.

I realized that I was still a bit hungry. So while Chuck was reading the guidebook, I took out another croissant to peel.

And I wondered if there was really any impartial way to tell who was more eccentric than who.

June, 2000
BB