When a sentence was not halfway out of my mouth this particular morning, Mr. Wayfarer’s phone beeped. As I continued talking, I saw I’d been trumped by Text Almighty and the dialogue had turned into a soliloquy. I got mad at the ready disregard for my words, at Husband’s adulterous adoration of his phone.
I came back to the grievance later and huffed, “Actually, I should just text you from the next room, go to the office and text the conversation. You’d listen then.” He started laughing, helpless against the truth. He added, “Text See me in the office. I’d come and you’d have my full attention.”
He wasn’t the only one laughing.
He’d have to come without the phone, though.