Rand and I have been home a lot this summer.
This is in part due to the fact that we hate to leave Seattle when it’s finally sunny here, and partly because I needed to let folks dig around in my brain. (You know how it is – when people have been digging around in your brain, you want the comfort of your own bed and an endless supply of pajamas. Also, pudding. Lots of pudding).
The nice part about being home for the summer is that I am able to catch up with all those friends who live in Seattle, but who I rarely see. Like my friend Mike. Here is a photo of the two of us, and our respective loves:
Mike’s pretty fantastic. He recently got a book deal, and I am
seething with jealousy incredibly proud of him. This past summer, we’ve had the chance to hang out a couple of times. I should have seen him more than that, but I keep forgetting to turn up the ringer on my phone, and I miss his calls. That’s what happened yesterday. Mike needed some help with something, and I was busy sitting on my butt and surfing the internet (which, obviously, is important work, too.)
Later, we discussed the event via text. I have decided to share it with you:
Me: Shit. Just got your call.
Mike: Yeah, thanks a lot. You know, if you want to be my assistant, you have to answer the damn phone!
Me: Sorry, Mr. C! It won’t happen again.
Me: Don’t fire me! Where else can I find a job that pays only in cake?
Me: Parenthetically, I demand to be paid in cake.
Mike: Yeah, how about you get some work done before you try breaking into my cake vault.
Me: “Cake vault”? Is that what you are calling it these days?
Me: I would hardly call it a vault when everyone knows the combination.
Mike: … you’re so fired.
Me: You can’t fire me! I quit. Wait, no. I should stick with being fired so I get one final paycake.
Me: Have it sent to my home, please.
Mike: Yes. I will throw it at your window.
Me: That is in no way a problem. I love window cake.
Me: Hey! Are you free for lunch sometime this week?
I have yet to hear back from him.