Your neighbor Pete Carroll jogs past your house wearing toe shoes and wants to know if, when he’s done with this 100 mile freelance fun in three days, you and your husband want to join him and his wife at the Santa Barbara grape harvest

You tell your husband, I saw Pete earlier today. Your husband rolls his eyes. You chastise him for being a dick about the Carrolls. They’re NICE people! It’s hard to make friends in this town and they’ve been so kind! You argue about the wine harvest invitation

You go. You carpool with the Carrolls. He wants to listen to the NPR station that only plays classical music. A piece by Vivaldi plays; you don’t love it but you know it so you try to make conversation. “Oh! Vivaldi!” And Pete spends the next 10 minutes talking shit about Vivaldi