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“So, hypothetically, can you be a streaker in your own house?” I asked Thomas.

“No, because you’re not in public.”

“But what if people who are in public can see you?”

“Still, no.”

“Would that make them peeping Toms?”

“Who?”

“The people who can hypothetically see you.”

“What?”

“And is it possible to be a peeping Tom from inside your house, or would you be a peeking Tom?”

“Hypothetically,” Thomas said, “what did you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Fine, but it’s not my fault.”

“It never is.”

“OK, so this is what may have happened,” I said. “Last night, around 3 a.m., I was hungry and remembered there was leftover pumpkin pie in the fridge, and since we have Oreos, I knew if I ate the pie, I could still have cookies for breakfast, which, by the way, we’re now out of cookies ’cuz I ate ’em all this morning. Do you think you could put some on the grocery list? Oh, and we’re almost out of milk, too.”

“Krista.”

“Yeah?”

“Get back to your story,” he said. “I have to work.”

“Right,” I said. “Where was I?”

“Pumpkin pie.”

“OK, so I went downstairs to get some pie, but it wasn’t where I had left it, which was in the front of the fridge, so I moved the milk and found it in the back,” I explained. “Did you notice how I said I moved the milk? That’s something people do when they can’t find things. They move stuff around.”

“What are you doing?”

“Taking the opportunity to have a teaching moment.”

“Speaking of teaching,” Thomas said, “I have to get back to work. Can you please finish your story?”

“Right, those titillating accounting videos don’t just make themselves,” I said. “Can I be in them? Since it’s math, I could sit in the corner wearing a dunce hat. I wouldn’t move, and then your students would wonder if I was a statue or real person.”

“The story,” he said impatiently.

“Is that a yes on being in the videos?”

“You have 1 minute to finish your story.”

“OK, geesh. A girl can’t even offer to be helpful without getting yelled at.”

“Fifty-five seconds.”

“Stop talking,” I said. “You’re using up all my storytelling time.”

Thomas looked at me.“Why are you staring at me?” I asked.

“I’m not staring. I stopped talking so you could tell your story.”

“I get to add on at least 30 seconds, ’cuz you’re being all ’noxious and taking up my time.”

He looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath.

“OK, so I was getting some pie and milk, but I forgot the glass for the milk, so I just left the fridge door open, so I could see when I walked across the kitchen, you know, ’cuz it was the middle of the night and dark.”

“Go on.”

“OK, so I poured some milk, sprayed some whipped cream all over the pie and before I put it away, I filled up my mouth with a bunch more whipped cream, and then I heard a noise.”

“Go on.”

“You know, you don’t seem super interested in my story.”

He waved his hand for me to continue what I thought was a titillating tale.

“So, I noticed that the front room curtains were open about 2 feet and that somebody had forgotten to close the window, so I could hear people outside.”

I looked at Thomas expectantly.

“What?” he asked.

“Just checking if you’re still paying attention.”

“Go on.”

“So then I hear this kid yell, ‘Lady, close your curtains. We don’t need to see you streaking.’

“And then a whole bunch of kids laughed, and I yelled, ‘This is MY house. Stop being a peeping Tom!’

“And then he yelled, ‘You’re the peeping Tom! We can see you looking at us!’

“And then I yelled, ‘I’m not peeping! I’m peeking out from behind my curtains!’

“And then he yelled, ‘That makes you a peeking Tom!’

“And then I yelled, ‘My name isn’t Tom, but my husband’s is, and I’m going to get him right now!’

“But Thomas, I wasn’t going to get you because I know how much you like sleeping. I was just trying to intimidate them.”

“Go on,” Thomas said.

“OK, so then they started walking toward the house, and I yelled, ‘social distancing!’

“And then he yelled, ‘Don’t worry, lady. We saw you in the kitchen, we’ll definitely keep more than 6 feet away from you, and you probably don’t need the rest of that pie!’

“Thomas, can you believe he said that? Not only were they peeping, but they also tried to ruin my appetite. Isn’t that rude?”

“You make my head hurt.”

“What?”

“Krista, I need to work.”

“Well, I need pumpkin pie and real people to talk to,” I cried.

“Hypothetically, you talked to people last night,” Thomas hugged me. “You’re going to be OK.”

Sooo ... how’s quarantine going for you guys?

Krista Vance is a former Champaign resident. While she now calls northern Colorado home, she spent five wonderful years here and misses great friends, corn and big-sky sunsets.