I took an improv class. The rule is "Yes, and." You accept whatever your partner says and build on it. This is against my nature. In my first scene, my partner said, "Captain, the ship is sinking." I said, "This is a submarine. It is supposed to go down." The instructor called it "blocking." I called it accuracy. For seven weeks, I was the fortress of the class. My partners built worlds. I inspected them for errors. Then, in week eight, a woman named Pam pointed at me and said, "You are the greatest dancer in the kingdom." I am not a dancer. I have never danced. "Yes," I said. "And I have retired to teach." The class lost it. Pam bowed to me. I bowed back. We danced badly for four minutes. After class, the instructor told me the class had been waiting eight weeks for me to say yes. They applauded. Not the scene. Me. I have decided to say yes more often. Yesterday my neighbor said, "Nice weather." I said, "Yes, and the humidity is building character." He has not spoken to me since.