Em called me this afternoon. (Yes, I answered the phone.) Some guy was bothering her while she was walking home from working on a project with some friends. I went and picked her up, adrenaline pouring through me from scalp to toes. She is okay. We're both shaken. Tonight we're going to buy a new phone for her, because the old phone has been acting up and it took her several tries to reach me.
From the warnings in the back of the Life textbook: If one sleeps over at one’s old house to take care of one’s own kids while their dad is on a business trip, and if one is pleased with how calmly and smoothly everything is going and has gone and seems to be likely to go in the future, one should not be surprised when one’s silly dog decides to have -- oh, what should we call it? diarrhea? -- in the master bedroom on the white carpet. One should be careful not to say anything too terribly vile to the dog while scrubbing away at germy spattery spots with old white gym towels. Note: one should be especially alert to the smirking meanness of the universe. The universe has been known to send along vicious wasps to sting one on the ring finger of the left hand, causing one to nearly faint from anxiety.
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