Monday, February 18, 2008

So I Ask Jennifer.....

......"Is there even the most remote, most minute chance that if I tell you SB is a jackass you'll at least hear me out?"

"No, it's done. It's over. Move on."

Never mind that I am the aggrieved party. Never mind that she is my sister. My blood, as SB likes to point out. Doesn't matter what it is, she can't even listen to my story.

Well that's why I have this blog.

As I wrote previously, I had my first free and open phone call with SB in four months on Valentine's Day. It was perfect and I loved it. However, as regular readers know.....Princess Crabby is greedy. I have been eagerly awaiting my next one. SB mentioned my Sunday afternoon, but we were having a birthday party at Grace's (which was great, thanks Grace!). So we settled on having me wake him in his Monday morning (my Sunday night). I asked him to leave me a message before he went to bed so I would know what time.

Seems like a simple enough mission, right? The Navy should be able to focus on this task, right?
Wrong. I pop out and there's a message alright, just nothing about what time I should call.


SB: Thank you. Just checking in on my way to bed. FN long day. Exhausted and have another early start tomorrow


My response? I am looking at this message and thinking "Is he doing this on purpose? Is he trying to make me absolutely crazy? Does he understand that I have been nearly vibrating with excitement at the prospect of waking him? That all he had to do was leave a time. Just checked my email.....nothing there either. I just hope you realize what you are putting your BFF through. I am on my way to meet her for pedicures. We just spent the afternoon at Grace's for the family party. Now I am going to drive her bonkers all evening with "should I call", "should I wait", "should I chance it at 0600" , "what about later", "what about earlier". I will be stepping on her last nerve and all because you couldn't stay focused and accomplish the mission.


So, I didn't call at all and Jennifer wouldn't let me whine and moan. I can't stomp my foot until the physical therapist is finished fixing it.


Humph!

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