My husband came home from his flight tonight and asked me what I did today.
I thought for a moment and then replied, "Nothing. I didn't do a freaking thing."
It was raining. The kids were busy playing games and watching videos. But, other than making meals and loading the dishwasher...well. Where the hell did my day go?
Then the phone rang. Patrick again. Our friend J is visiting him from out-of-town and they're hitting the stores and going to a fancy fashion event.
Hmm, let's see. Let's check the call log on my phone. Shall we?
He called me eleven times today. Eleven!
The calls started with descriptions of clothes and idle chit chat. They ended with him drunkenly slurring out a confession of the bad thing he did.
Oh, and let's not forget the text messages. There are five of those. And six picture mails!
The pictures start out of their shopping trip. I guess I was kind of long distance consulting. And they ended with a picture of someone's penis.
I don't know whose. I don't want to know.
All I know is that eleven phone calls and eleven messages from your best friend can really take a chunk out of your day. And cost me about five bucks!
Which I guess is pretty cheap to get all the details of what happened in the men's room.
Not that I'm saying...I'm just saying.
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