CALL ME SNAKE

I read somewhere that Ben and Jennifer have settled here in Cambridge, at least temporarily, because it’s a place they can live without being stalked by the dreaded paparazzi. I can respect that. But privacy is a two-way street, and Jennifer needs to respect my privacy as well. Last week, before I left on my second trip (or was it my third? I lose count.), I could swear I saw her at my gym and maybe at the pool–swimming beside me in the very next lane, in fact. If it’s just one time, you can call it an accident. But the next day, I saw her again in my favorite Harvard Square chocolate establishment. Once again, I was just minding my own business, trying to get through this complicated routine called life. Two times might still be considered a fluke, albeit it an extremely flukey one. But if it happens again, it’s a clearcut case of stalking. In which case, I might have to take out a restraining order. I don’t like being stalked by anyone, even by a beautiful, statuesque Hollywood starlet temporarily slumming in my hometown (which, by the way, won’t last once winter sets in).