In which a veteran of cultural studies seminars in the 1990s moves into academic administration and finds himself a married suburban father of two. Foucault, plus lawn care.
Actual conversation from last night, at the kitchen table. The Girl is writing out her Valentine’s Day cards, and The Boy is working on a report on Thomas Edison.
The Wife: TB, do you have to do valentines?
TB: Well, we don’t have to, but we can. If we do, we have to do one for everyone in the class.
TW: Do you want to?
TB: (shrugging): I guess so.
TW: Is there anyone outside of your class you’d like to give one to?
TB (smirking): I choose not to disclose that information.
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