Last night Georgia decided she was in charge of setting the table. I was the minion. I went upstairs for a sec to go pee or some such other bother and it was incredibly annoying to the conductor of affairs. She began the countdown preceding the point where I would get in big trouble if I didn't come down: "Ten, nine, eight, I'm serious now, seven ..." I apologized profusely, then went about my assigned tasks: forks, knives, spoons, drinks (and especially adults' wine). I asked officious George what I should call her: Hostess, Lady, Manager, Director, and she stopped me dead in my tracks: "Master." No drama, and without the slightest pause.