Tonight's episode reminded me of a game I used to play growing up called "The Last Straw." It had a plastic camel with a basket on each side of his hump. The challenge was to keep adding straws to the basket, but not the straw that breaks his back. What is the straw that breaks the camel's back? What are people's triggers? What makes perfectly sensible people behave, sometimes, insensibly?
Do you think Heather ever anticipated chasing a woman around a room all night with a maniacal grin to make her crazy? Did LuAnn always insist on making grand entrances? Did Sonja, when she had houses and yachts ever think she'd be sweating out the extra inch and third tray on a toaster oven? Could I, ten years ago, have pictured myself in long dress and fur shrug on a ruthless bloody mission to kick ass in croquet? Was there ever a time when Aviva didn't vacuum?
In the penthouse in London the girls are gathered around breakfast and bidets. They look fresh-faced and gorgeous while downstairs -- I had the spare room, second floor -- I'm still reeling from lack of sleep. How do they do it? It has to be something to do with ice and the bidet. No one will let me shower, again. It’s our third day. I had a blow-out (hair) on Monday in New York, now it's Wednesday, leaving tomorrow. I'm just trying to hang on.