Everything is copy.

Dear Nora Ephron-

I miss you.  In 2011 when I saw you speak in person, you told me, "Everything is copy." 

I thought about you last Saturday night when I invited Benjamin* to my apartment.  Benjamin is from Egypt and we've had a blast laughing over cultural differences and curiosities.  We had gone out several times before, and it seemed like a good time to show him around before we headed out to dinner.  Upon entering my apartment, Benjamin takes one look around and becomes perplexed: 

"Does that have a home?"

"Yes, of course, Benjamin.  This is his home."

"No, no.  I mean, does that have a smaller home."

"Benjamin, my apartment is only 768 square feet.  This is a small home."

"What is the word I'm thinking of . . .  a hut?  Does it have a hut?" 

In his broken English, and my earnestness to communicate, it takes a moment for me to realize what he's saying.  

 "No Benjamin, this little dog who might just be the great love of my life does NOT have a kennel or a cage or a hut."

"So you just let it jump all over?"

 "He sleeps about 22 hours a day.  And he's too fat to jump."

"This is . . . how do you say? . . . Gross.  Animal belongs to cage.  Person belongs to house."

Silence.

Nora, if you were here, you could make this situation comic and light and pee-in-your-pants funny.    When I stop being disappointed about failed date No. 1,467, I'll remember that this was copy too, and then I'll laugh. 

Thank you for reminding me of that, Nora.

Sincerely,

SEE

*Name changed to protect the identity of said dog-hater.