Like any man....
Okay, so it's the middle of the day. A patient calls to say she's running late. I have a spare moment. I decide to text Roy--haven't talked to him in a bit, just some real brief e-mails-- why not? So I send a text message: Will there be lines?
What would you think if you got a random text message to your phone in the middle of the work day: Will there be lines?
I expected a reply: "?" Or: "lines?" Lines in the sand, lines on a page, lines on my face, lines of what, for what, by what?
Did Roy ask? Did he so much as flinch? Within moments, the reply came: On July 11th? Yes.
He knew. Or I knew what was on his mind, what's always on Roy's mind. Will there be lines? Yes. July 11th? The date the new iPhone comes out. And yes, I did mean: Will there be lines to purchase the new iPhone? Somehow, Roy knew what I was thinking. Hard to be cryptic these days.
Oh, and of course, do submit your posts for Grand Rounds at Shrink Rap! You know the theme.
P.s. This story was not confabulated.
5 comments:
hmmm...sounds like an old married couple ;)
not that that's a bad thing
I can usually follow Dinah's mental twists and turns, but I never could follow my wife's. Mine are harder to follow.
What's wrong with the map?
Before I even finished the post, once I read your intial text to him, Dinah, I knew what you were referring to! It's a sickness, isn't it? hehe
I don't even have a cellphone. Why? Because if I inadvertently bring it to work, it's five days off without pay. Lately, the inmates have been hiding these gadgets on the prison grounds.
In short, I had no idea what "lines" meant.
Hi, kids, your iPhone post pulled me from a less-than-gracious episode of pain-induced self-pity (and lurking) to say I certainly knew to what Dinah referred. There was fire, the iPod, then the iPhone. PWNED & jailbroken. Then other stuff like penicillin... I now slither back to my own tartarus (Archaic, yes. But it has a nice ring).
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