I am not a morning person. Actually, I'm not a morning anything. Mornings are supposed to be spent bleary eyed drinking coffee, trying to remember where I left my glasses. Anything before 8am is dangerous--there's not enough oxygen left after overnight, and if you move too fast, or expect too much, you're liable to pass out. Oxygen production doesn't get back up to speed until around 9, and it's really not safe to move fast or have big plans for the morning until 11 or so.
Last Monday, I was, of course, sleeping. Until the phone rang, at too early for me o'clock. It was my brother, the Crown Prince. After years of explaining to him that his schedule is indeed HIS, that does not mean anyone else (namely, ME) follows it. He still doesn't get it.
He wanted to know if I got the local Sunday paper.
I did.
Then he wanted to know what sales flyers were in it, because he got the other non-local Sunday paper, and the flyer selection was not what he expected. Can I grab mine so we can compare my list of flyers to his?
Uh, NO. Dude. Meet Mr. Click.
2 comments:
Good for you.
Wait. You still have a land line?
Yes. And we use tracfones for what cellphone usage we need.
We're RETRO, not old.
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