A cautionary tale for those of us who like to kill two birds with one stone. I think the term of choice now is multi-task. If you are one of those taskers, like I am, then you’ll want to know what can befall you if you’re not vigilant.I was risking life, limb, and driver’s license racing down the parkway to an appointment of the highest priority when my cell phone rang. A moment earlier I wouldn’t have been able to answer because I’d been putting on my mascara, but fortunately I’d finished, so I had a free hand to answer the phone.It was my wild and wonderful and altogether crazy - in a good way - friend from Idaho. She was depressed. I told her that I was rushing to get a bikini wax, so I only had fifteen minutes to talk in the car. We put the conversation in “fast forward,” which isn’t difficult when you’ve known someone forty-five years. We’ve had the “I’m depressed” conversation - what? at least a thousand times over the years - often the “I’m depressed” being me. Either way, we knew what we had to do, what questions to ask, what advice to give, and how to do it in fifteen minutes.Except . . . this time it didn’t work. We were on the right track, but still needed more time to discuss, ruminate, second-guess ourselves. I couldn’t leave her hanging; yet the thought of remaining hirsute was out of the question. I was truly on the horns of a dilemma. So, I did what any good friend would do. I put her (the phone, actually) in my pocket, ran in to the salon, made my apologies to the technician for needing to use my cell phone while she worked. I stopped just short of being obsequious, but I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t offend the woman who was preparing to administer boiling oil or hot wax - whatever - and rip it off with a piece of linen.”No ploblem,” she said in her charming Korean accent. And with that, as if on cue, down fell my pants and simultaneously I hopped up onto the table, immediately “assuming the position.” (That set of moves was, well, seamless, actually balletic.)I was vaguely aware of the “procedure” as I was talking to my friend. The technician was talking to me I think, but I was listening to my friend explain her understanding of what she needed to do. I recall saying yes a few times to indicate that I agreed with what she was saying. Then we said goodbye.I thought the waxing seemed to be taking longer than usual, but I was still focusing on the conversation with my friend. So It wasn’t until I stood up that I felt the breeze.”You like?” the waxer asked.”It’s uh, cold,” I said.”You don’t like?” she asked. “But I ask you if you want me keep going, you say yes. Two times. You say yes. So I keep going . . . til nothing left.”