Is that a cucumber in your bag or are you just happy to see me?

I don’t know, this was too long for Facebook so I thought I’d put it on here.

Lately I’ve been binge-watching Billions, the Paul Giamatti/Damian Lewis political-financial thriller. The dialogue is whip smart, the intrigue scintillating.

Having run out of episodes, I recently switched to Succession, which follows the boardroom shenanigans of the family of a wealthy tycoon.

All this to say, I’ve been watching a lot of wheelin’ and dealin’ and white collar stealin’.

So it’s late, I’m way into my show but there’s a lull in the dialogue so I check Facebook. (“Double fisting” my husband calls it, when I’m watching a show and surfing social media at the same time.)

I see a funny post by my neighbor, who accidentally ordered cucumbers instead of zucchini in her latest grocery delivery.

For some reason, cucumbers sound AMAZING, so I offer to trade her from my zucchini stash for her cukes. She offers a trade of two for two, I agree and I go to finish my show.

A little while later, my phone dings and the message reads, “I’m at your door with cucumbers.”

Having completely forgotten about my recent foray in to online vegetable trading, all I can think is, “kinky.”

Then I remember, so I plod into the kitchen in my jammies and paw through the crisper in search of the proffered zucchini.

But I can only find one. And the deal was two.

I have yellow squash. Should I throw in it there to make up the difference? Should I renegotiate the terms? Sweeten the deal with a cup of sugar?

In my head, suddenly Bobby Axelrod is chewing my ass for not having a proper courgette count before I make a produce pact. I’ve failed him.

I grab the lone zucchini and stuff it in a bag with two yellow squash praying that since they’re kind of in the same food family, I’ll be forgiven.

I awkwardly shove the bag through the door crack at my neighbor’s husband, who seems amicably bewildered by the whole idea of vegetable transactions at midnight, grab his cucumbers in return, and latch the door.

Clearly, I am not cut out for the boardroom.

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