Saved as draft - 3/08/06
You tried to call me, but it went to voicemail. I attempted to call you back, so I could explain that I'd been snuggling Isabelle into my arms while Mark and my father attempted to fix a leak in our roof, and I'd left my cell phone squished between the couch cushions. But I missed you by only a few minutes; I knew you were now serving your part-time shift at Pretzel World.
I know you hate that job for a lot of reasons, but I hated it today, too.
I suppose I should probably just send you this text message - a text message - but, for some reason, I find myself reluctant to press that little button. Maybe it's because I'm being a little fraidy-cat, or maybe it's because I want to be the one who's fought for, this time, unlike so many past occurrences in my life.
Perhaps that's a little selfish of me. But I don't think it's too much to ask of you to call first. Maybe you will, like you did earlier.
I guess I'm just patiently awaiting the reveal of how much I actually mean to you.
P.S. I hope your shift goes well, regardless. Remember to stock up on the mustard this time. :)
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