I came home last night (this morning?) at 1:35 a.m., and found an Ulta Salon menu stuck to my door. It had been torn in half and scrawled on it in red lip liner (or maybe even lip stick), was the following message:
Lost your #. Call me.
Of course, it was signed by Ubermom. She'd gone radio silent the first week of September, after I did something sort of inconsiderate and I was convinced she hated me. I called her today, and she responded with complete nonchalance. Asked if I wanted to see her. I told her I'd call her later, as I was at work. How bizarre. Thing is, I have a complete "out" here . . . I don't have to call her. In the long run, I'm probably best served by not calling. There are a couple of more promising irons in the fire, truth be told. And by "more promising" I mean far less crazy.
3 comments:
There must be something you can't resist. Hmmm??
Thing about crazy is that, crazy is great, and crazy is fun. But there has to be some kind of balance, or crazy is just too much too annoying.
Amen, unconscious.
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