I do hate your eggrolls.

Yesterday evening, I was unreachable by phone for exactly 90 minutes. I was giving a speech to a room full of old lawyers eating roast beef, bacon-flavored corn, and non-birthday birthday cake.

When I checked my phone, I had 18 text messages from 12 people, more than I usually receive in an entire day. None of the texts, standing alone, was particularly noteworthy. But strung together as one imaginary conversation...


"If one was looking, where would one find you tonight?"

"In your 'summer robe' made of pad thai and gobstoppers."

"Do you ever feel like your car wants you dead?"

"I wish - I passed out at 9:30."

"Your pathetic display of affection last night made my heart warm."

"I'm not on my A-game."

"I bet you're pretty pleased that you eluded me."

"That's exactly what you want, isn't it? So transparent."

"Haha! Georgia was wearing your nametag around the event tonight. She was drunk. Are we breaking up?"

"One of my board members was wearing your nametag around all night. Did I mention she's in AA?"

"I've been lost all day without talking to you. I have been sad."

"R u furious with me?"

"Mitzi, You know why! Now you gotta french braid my hair this weekend!"

"I'm drinking a rum & coke and contacting the FBI."

"I hope you were able to get your shaking under control. Today was a shit show."

"I'm not kidding about the FBI."

"You hate my eggrolls. I can tell."

"Take two shots of whiskey and call me in the AM."