I had a busy day at work today, more like a Saturday than a Wednesday, but that's all about the holiday. I'll be off for two days, work a half-day on Saturday, and be off Sunday. I'm ready to catch my breath a bit.
Today I was thinking about one of your more baffling and lovable idiosyncrasies. It was the messages you'd leave on my phone whenever you called and I didn't answer. Normal people would just leave a message. You'd eventually get around to that, but first you'd leave this long soliloquy about my reason for missing the phone call. It was always fascinating to hear your speculations. You'd go on about maybe I was outside and hadn't taken the phone with me, or was in the basement, or taking a shower, or had gone somewhere and forgotten my phone - you came up fascinating scenarios. And you were so completely serious about it. I used to listen and laugh. The amazing thing is that you were rarely right - that was unusual for you. You knew me so well that it seemed you'd just know what I was doing at any given moment.
I'd so love to get one of those messages now. If Verizon sufficiently expands its coverage, I might. Maybe now you always know what I'm doing. I just wish it was mutual. I so miss hearing all about your day at bedtime every night, and I miss telling you about mine. Even if you already know all about my day, I'd love to hear your comments. I'd just love to hear you. If you can, come tonight and tell me about your day.