Former boss Flo looked at the text message described in the preceding post. "Why the fuck is 9 in quotes?" she asked, genuinely perplexed.
"That's the issue you have with it?" I replied.
I was in Flo's office yesterday to teach her how to do her job. For the last five years, she rather enjoyed not having to pay attention, but now she's screwed. Utterly.
It reminded me of nothing so much as when I first moved to Washington, leaving Maddie in the Midwest after our six years of living together. I'd been out here a few months when I got the call. "Um, this is kind of embarrassing," she said awkwardly, audibly digging her toe. "But what kind of maxi-pads do I get?"