My texting game is
on point fleek… Who am I kidding? The only thing I’m doing right now is embarrassing the heck out of my teenagers.
Case in point… Last week I was texting a friend in Hawaii about recent break-ins happening in our old ‘hood. Petty theft is just something that happens in Hawaii and my friend and I were chuckling at the drama. When it became apparent that surveillance was necessary on an empty house (in our old neighbors’ minds) I sent her a text that said, “If there is a dead body I’m coming over. Grab the mochi crunch…” Or something to that effect. Except I didn’t send it to my friend. I sent it to my neighbor that I don’t know all that well. ???? Bria was at her house and I was about to ask her to send Bria home when I got distracted. I doubt I get to know her any better. I did explain and luckily she’s a good sport.
Autocorrect combined with my gorilla-sized thumbs are often a devil of a combination. That’s all I say about that.
Then there are the texts to my poor husband. Bless his heart.
He basically has to put up with texts like that intermittently throughout his day. It is exacerbated by the fact that most of our conversations revolve around what his next station should/will be. Pray for him. I’m awful.
If I’m not barraging him with texts about where we’re going, it can often reflect on where we’ve been.
Like pictures of a mama and her calf in the water right outside where we used to live or items he assumes I’ve already purchased. I apparently need to put them on a Christmas list instead. (Hint hint Ray…)
Another recent text read, “Projectile vomit. Who knew they still do that when they’re 8?”
I guess I need to get busy. I haven’t texted Mom yet today.