Friday, May 29, 2009
My husband has Fridays off. I had this fantasy where I, too, would not work on Fridays and thus we'd have wonderful 3-day weekends together. But we self-employed types scramble 365 days a year (yes, I've been known to do work on Christmas) and in the end, it simply wasn't practical.
But I could have lunch once in a while.
So around noon today, I walked out in the kitchen, where Ron was tapping away on his computer. "What are your lunch plans today?" Dead silence. "Well, I guess I'll just fix a bowl of Raisin Bran then and hit the bank." Dead silence.
I woof down my cereal to the sound of my own chewing, and head back in the office to fill out my deposit slip. And that's when Ron's almighty iPhone rang.
"Hey! Great! OK, I'd love to have lunch -- McDonald's, Burger King, Qdoba. I can meet you anywhere." Get outta here! Not 30 seconds earlier he was too engrossed in his work to take a break, and now he's headed to lunch (real lunch, not Raisin Bran) with a buddy? Them's fighting words.
Ron, as usual, looked pole-axed. "I didn't hear you. I guess I had other things on my mind." Yah, like apparently how important it is to answer the iPhone but not your wife standing right in front of you.
Next week, I've learned my lesson. If you want to talk to Ron, that's 317, 987 ...