Number, Please

[The Cable Car Coffee Company, Hallidie Plaza's finest flower, didn't have my phone after all. Later, at the Thai restaurant to which I dragged my parents before sending them to the Friendly Neighborhood Cabaret to see Debby Boone perform her mother-in-law's songbook (deep breath), I thought to ask Mom to call my phone once I got back to my apartment.]

[She did, it rang, and I was relieved. While Mom found the (nicer) model I'd blamed Tom Jones for stealing back in September, I'd've had to pay my bill to transfer service, and that's no sooner than next week. The world must've heard my relief, because I spent the next three and a half hours on long chats with Leah, the New Guy, and Max. All good, but I was barely speaking English by the time I hit "end" for the last time.]

[There are worse problems than friends clamoring to talk to you.]

Previously Next