Mrs. Beaverboosh and I have two of most things, in addition to arms, legs, eyes, and ears. We are just “that sort of folk”. We are fortunate and grateful for our abundant provenance and have worked hard for it. The capital markets have extracted their two pounds of flesh from each of us.
When shopping together if an article of clothing elicits the response ‘that looks great on you’ from the other, two of the same item are procured. This of course extends to shoes and to accessories.
We both have: two sets of downhill skis, one for powder, one for piste; two sets of cross country skis, one for tracks, one for mountains; and two sets of golf clubs, one for playing with, one for cursing and abusing.
We have: two properties, one in town, one in country; and two automobiles, one for practical stuff, one for BB’s testosterone.
We both have: two computers, one for work, one for home; two diaries, one on-line, one off-line; and two ipods, one for the gym, one for fuck knows.
We have two holidays a year, one is summer, and one in winter, generally lasting two weeks each.
We have two charities that we dedicate time and resources to, one for global concerns and one for local concerns which is often the recipient of a lot of second hand seconds.
I am reflecting on this binary obsession. I seriously consider having another penis installed. Sizing up the possibilities is making me dizzy.
Two heads are better than one.
I present the idea for evaluation to Mrs. BB. She is draped across the sofa, deeply engaged in activities of the on-line variety. Without hesitation or casting a glance in my direction she replies “Darling, I have more than a girl can ask for with the one between your legs and the one on your shoulders.”
Apparently, three’s a crowd.