Since yesterday was my friend Renee's birthday, I decided to call her while we were walking Tallulah. Renee lives in Hawaii (I know, right?) and there is a six-hour time difference.
Do you have any friends with a six-hour time difference? It is hideous. I'll think to call her on Saturday morning and it'll be 3 a.m. her time. Or she'll call me and I'll be just getting into REM. When we lived in LA she was my closest friend, and we called each other 940 times a day and now we have to get out blueprints and giant maps of the country and thumb tacks to call each other.
Anyway, I got her voice mail and sang Happy Birthday to her in my sexy Marilyn-Monroe-singing-to-Kennedy voice. "Happy biiiirrrrthday to youuuuu," I breathed. Tallulah looked back at me, concerned. "Happy BIRTHday toooo YOUUUUUUU…" at this point I don't know why the male neighbors weren't rushing out their doors to hump my hip.
"You know you sound like a ghost, right?" Marvin said.
In other news, I am growing worried about my across-the-street neighbor, because I am Gladys Kravitz. Or was it Crabbitz? Whatever. You know who I mean. Unless you are my cousin Katie, who never knows about anything from before she was born. I mean, who doesn't know about Bewitched? No matter when you were born?
My neighbor is single and works nights. I think she is some kind of nurse. Unlike my other neighbors, who I talk to and am kind of friends with, she and I just wave at each other. But when I worked from home, I'd see her come in from work about 9:30 a.m. with bags of fast food and I'd think, "That's not good. You're gonna eat fast food then go to bed?"
Because you all know what a health nut I am. With the salads and the balanced meals. And the cooking and the meal planning. And the low sodium and lack of sugar. Did I tell you I am already friends with the vending machine lady at work, and she has stocked extra blueberry Pop Tarts for me?
I just saw her now as I am typing and she (my neighbor, not the vending machine lady) looks considerably heavier. I worry that her job is stressful, and maybe she's lonely, and would it kill her to eat a little better? There are all sorts of studies about how the night shift is bad for people. And all this is totally any of my business.
Maybe I need to go over there and take her a Pop Tart.
And finally, Faithful Reader Paula H&B was irked that I never mentioned the pajama survey yesterday, and it would seem most of you wear yours two or three times, which is what I do and I wondered if everyone just wore theirs once and I was disgusting.
And I know I just said "finally," but you know how Henry keeps looking for his phantom toy in the closet? He just jumped up here playing with this.
P.S. (Who has no concept of the word "finally"?) Book club! Sunday! 7 p.m. Eastern time! The book is Breakfast with Buddha! I need to have exclamation points!