Six Miles

I don't have much to say, but since I've been telling people I'm a writer, I figure I'd better just write . . . plus, a writing website I read says to do that.  And now that I think about it, I'm thinking of more and more that I can write about.  I will write about my favorite people, all of whom-with the exception of one-have meaningful pseudonyms.  I went out for coffee with Petunia Tune.  We spent the majority of our time together talking about flatulence and other bodily occurrences.  I went out for frozen yogurt on a windy, blustery, ominous-looking day with Shaniquah.  I will see my friend who has yet to get a pseudonym later today.  Oh, and the name.  I walked across town the other day to my friend's house, 3 miles away from my own, and I walked home, for a grand total of six miles.  I felt pretty good about that, and plan to do it weekly . . . or thereabouts.  Also, I called Device Guy (my husband) at work, and had to leave a message.  I had to quickly yell into the phone, "Device Guy, don't hang up!"  You see, Device Guy tends to erase my messages and instead just call me at home, which infuriates me.  I have learned that it makes me crazy that I have to talk to people.  Why can't they just read my mind?  My dad does the same thing:  he erases my messages and just calls me.  That, for some reason, is fine.  I guess it's because I know he does it, so I know better than to bother leaving a message.  Plus, he likes to hear my voice rather than just conduct business and relay essential information.  Maybe Device Guy has the same motive.  I guess I'll ask him tonight.  In the meantime, a very merry Christmas to you all.