I’m sentimental against my will. I save text messages. I have to force myself to delete them because I have an old lady phone that doesn’t hold many of them.
I like my old lady phone. I like busting it out when guys at bars ask for my number and I feel ambivalent enough to say yes. They look shocked. They think you have to be crazy to have an old lady phone or otherwise illegally unhip. I hesitate to inform them that I’m crazy and illegally unhip. They usually call anyway and I don’t pick up my old lady phone.
The last text message I sent to Philadelphia said “We forgot to use the handcuffs.”
I wonder how cold it is in London. It should snow. It has to snow. It’s cold enough.