“Your number today is 41. I repeat, your phone number today is 41.”
Now that my brother is staying connected, he’s calling me every morning and evening, and even leaving voicemails. He fancies himself pretty clever. That I unknowingly left off the word “phone” in front of number when voicing my message has me susceptible to his shenanigans.
My favorite was hearing him laugh at Evelyn learning the Spanish word caca, “It’s poop. Poop!” That’s my brother, always up for a poop joke.
I’m writing more for you than for myself tonight. I’m feeling a bit ugh and am burrito-ing myself in my covers. The queasiness and nausea is likely a result of the deep-fried chalupa from lunch wit which I now know not to get again. Can I count on seeing you here tomorrow?
I’ll take that as a yes.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 