I finally met her

Remember the woman in Screwtape letters? The one who always sent back a meal if the plate had more food than she happened to want to eat? I served her table last night.

"Oh great! I have my choice of tables."

"Actually, Ma'am, all the tables are assigned. This one is yours."

"Oh no! I couldn't sit there. Not in front of the door. I want that one in front of the fireplace."

"I'm sorry ma'am, that table is spoken for." Mike gave her a choice of several other empty tables. She wanted neither. She sauntered over the the baby grand. "Will there be a Pi-ah-no player this evening?" There would not be. "Well, darling. What do you think? Here will be fine. There's carpet."

I have no idea what the floor covering had to do with the preference of the table. But at least she was sitting. For a second.

"Oh dear, no. I need a different chair. This one is all scuffed and chipped. I just couldn't." Another chair was provided. "There, you see how that one was all worn? This is much better."

Then her husband had a turn. "Do you have low-carb beer." No low carb, but a few light beers. "You don't have low carb? What about Coors light Aspen blend? No? Miller light then."

I went to retrieve it. The bartender was pouring, when the man came up behind us. "You, you know something. You don't have low carb beer?" Repeating the entire coversation we'd just had, he was finally satisfied with the now poured Miller Light. "Alright," he said staring at it. "I'll take that one." he turned and walked away sans beer.

Later that evening, "Oh, could you take this napkin from me. It fell on the floor." It couldn't be left on the floor, or set on the table, or set on one of the chairs until they left. It so offended her that it must be hand carried away. She didn't want another.

I have met C.S. Lewis' lady.