A week or so ago, a photographer from a local weekly newspaper took photos of Greg and me for an article about our business.
We picked up a copy the evening it hit the streets and ripped it open to see what was written and what picture they had chosen.
"It's a picture of you on your cab," I said, disappointed. "Not one of us together."
Greg glanced at the photo and said, "No, there you are, sitting in the back."
"That's not me," I exclaimed. "That's the clock!"
He looked again and laughed, "Oh, you're right." (In Greg's defense, it was sort of dark and he didn't have his reading glasses on.)
When we got home I showed my mom the photo and told her the story. She laughed and said,"Well, if he ever gets lonesome, he can look at a clock and think of you."
We picked up a copy the evening it hit the streets and ripped it open to see what was written and what picture they had chosen.
"It's a picture of you on your cab," I said, disappointed. "Not one of us together."
Greg glanced at the photo and said, "No, there you are, sitting in the back."
"That's not me," I exclaimed. "That's the clock!"
He looked again and laughed, "Oh, you're right." (In Greg's defense, it was sort of dark and he didn't have his reading glasses on.)
When we got home I showed my mom the photo and told her the story. She laughed and said,"Well, if he ever gets lonesome, he can look at a clock and think of you."
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