It seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course the time was 2:30 Sunday morning, and one of my hard-learned life rules is that nothing good happens at that hour of the deep dark night, especially after a couple of tequila shots, except sweet dreams and maybe an intimate snuggle. Our little house in Edgewater New Jersey with the spectacular view of Manhattan across the Hudson River was quiet, even the dogs were asleep. Hot and muggy out, I had just gone for a moon-lit swim in our little pool on the dock. Drying myself upstairs in the kitchen, I picked up my company-issued Blackberry and checked emails concerning the Saturday night program just aired a few hours earlier on the Fox New Channel.
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