Keep watching the fan turn back and forth, back and forth. You feel as if you’re drifting away. When I count to three, my voice is the only one you’ll hear. 1… 2… 3!

Okay, here’s the deal. Your good pal and therapist here lost a little too much money playing the ponies down at the track, and Mrs. Therapist is way ticked off about it. So when you wake up, you’re going to feel this incredible urge to pay me, let’s say, a hundred dollars for the Sharper Image Desk Fan with Heater I’ve got on my desk.

You’ll faun over the compact design. You’ll say something about how your boss turns your office into a meat locker every summer and that the built-in heater will come in handy. You’ll, I don’t know, be fascinated by the easy-to-read LED indicator lights or something. Maybe it has something to do with your commitment issues. Whatever. The point is that you’re not leaving my office without giving me money for it so that I can win back some of the money I lost, got it?

Oh, and you’ll also remember that you’re father never hugged you, which is the reason you tend towards self-destructive relationships. Wait, ONE of the reasons. I don’t need you cancelling appointments on me. I may need you to come in and buy this bust of Freud off me if Tears For Fears doesn’t win at 20 to 1.

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