This morning, I read yesterday's post to the historian. I was still in bed. The historian was dressed and sitting bedside:
Me: 'And yet, once we left the store, I yearned for them. I looked on the M & S site when we got back home. Where were the boots? They were nowhere to be found, mere ghosts of memory. Soon, we left for America, bootless. Literally. I looked on the Marks & Spencer website. Still no boots. And then, a few days later, lo! they appeared. And reader, I did buy them, with free shipping. And today, I wore them. And they are perfect.'
The historian: I didn't know you were looking at the Marks & Spencers website.
Me: (a flash of shopping shame. On the other hand:) Well, honey. You know, if you need any shopping done, I'm your girl.
At the Arctic Circle, where we were acquiring food so that we could make the City Art Meltdown:
Manager, the entire upper half of her body thrust through the drive-thru window, using her outdoor voice: I'm gonna ask you to pull up to the first space up there (gestures toward a waiting space marked '1'), because it's gonna be another minute on your tots, 'kay?
My colleague, to me, in a text: 'I hate to do this so early in the semester but I need to Skype into tomorrow's meeting at 4. Can I Skype you at 4?'
Me: 'Of course. I just have to curse you with a thousand curses, is all. Not really.'
Colleague: Lots of gnashing of teeth and curses from you these days. I like it!
Later, I received this in an email:
(this would be the 'optional tantrum component' of any meeting. Which, since it's the beginning of the semester, seems only fitting.)