Outside Akron

A while back I was layin' there in my sorry state; my wife next to me. She asked if there was anything she could do. Well. As you know. That's always a hard one: there really isn't much anyone can do for you. So I replied as Dr. Chumley: (found the text) There's a cottage camp just outside Akron - in a grove of maple trees - green - cool - beautiful. I'd go there with a pretty woman. (that would be my Rosalie, my wife) A strange woman -- a quiet woman. (my wife actually happens to be quite level-headed--a reason I originally fell for her) I wouldn't even want to know her name (I just told you her name) -- while I would be just - Mr. Smith. Then I would send out for cold beer. No. [no whiskey...gives me heartburn] Then I would tell her things. Things that I've never told to anyone. Things that are locked - deep in here. (COUGHS) And as I talked to her, I would want her to hold out a soft white hand and say 'Poor thing. You poor, poor thing.' [For how long would you want this to go on, Doctor?] Two weeks. ... That's not asking for much, is it?