A civil matter of disobedience

It’s not everyday that I wake up to a voicemail that begins “Max, my son, you must do something!” and then proceeds to inform me that my father has bought himself a water pipe, my mother has just fallen asleep but would agree that indeed I ought to do something, mint molasses compliment something else my parents have been smoking and that Frau Hirschboeck made some lovely cookies and if I’d had the good sense to be in England I might have had some. And of course returning the call proves fruitless which leaves me to suspect that my parents are busy politely and civilly expressing some civil disobedience today.

Not quite being of their measure as yet I suppose I’ll just have to go back to eating prawn cocktail with a caviar spoon while I sort out some documents and maybe later smoking a cigar. I have a conference call set up for later anyway and seeing as making use of a Russian interpreter was precarious enough last time, I can’t imagine that it would be in my best interest to be civilly disobedient when there are at least five interpreters involved in today’s proceedings.