It does seem that Libby, my older, wiser sister, is always right
Shan is texting me. I’ve taken to randomly clomping downstairs to check my phone on its perch on the kitchen counter. Not much action: A missed call from Debbi, one class chain call about ordering pizza for Rosh Chodesh, a text goodnight from Zeesy from last night, and now, a text from Shan…
Hey you.
Hmmm, mysterious.
Hey you too, I type back.
Which I immediately regret, because that’s super nerdy. Why do I do this?
Her LOL is instantaneous.
How’s it going down there?
I lean on the counter. Down there? Where is she living, the North Pole?
Greeeeeat. I hesitate only a moment before tapping out Baruch Hashem.
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