Am I wearing the same thing I wore last Friday night?
What?
Halfway here I was struck by the overwhelming feeling that I wore this exact outfit to last Friday night, and there’s no way I’m going in there to see my mother wearing the same thing I wore last Friday night because I may not remember but she sure as hell will.
I don’t know.
You don’t know?
You don’t remember but you expect me to?
Well, you look at me more than I look at me; you sit across from me at dinner. You had more of a chance to imprint my ensemble in your brain.
Sorry, no imprint.
Oh, that hurts.
Well I’m sure you don’t remember what I was wearing.
I most certainly do.
Okay, what was I wearing?
You were wearing a lovely and delicately understated, uh, outfit… well, you were definitely wearing these arms.
Oh, way to imprint, lady.
Stand in front of me, just in case. (Rings doorbell.)
Hello.
Hi, we should be on the guest list. Holstein and Liza are expecting us. (Maid looks confused.)
Okay. Let’s try it straight. Hi, we’re here for dinner. I’m Lorelai the daughter, this is Rory the granddaughter.
Oh! Okay, I’m sorry. Right this way.
She’s acting weird.
She knows I’m wearing the same outfit as last week.
She wasn’t here last week.
The world’s small, maids talk.
About you?
Yes.
Oh. With all that’s going on in the world, all the maids in existence are talking about you.
Huh. ‘Kay, now you’re making me seem a little stuck up.
Can I get you something to drink?
Yes, a martini please.
Coke, please.
Oh, you know, maybe we should wait for my mother. Is she coming down soon?
No.
Oh. Okay. Do you know if she saw what I was wearing through the window?
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