Miss Carol likes talking the way the Pope likes praying and Tiger Woods likes sex.
And I’m used to it.
Really.
But, lately, it’s getting maybe a little bit over the top.
We took off a half day the other day and went up to the strip for lunch so we could use up a Christmas present before it expired. We don’t get out much and ’cause we’re lazy and don’t go NEAR the strip during Touron Season we had to take some time off and just GO.
The whole way in the truck Miss Carol alternated between talking and texting on her Crackberry. While at the restaurant Miss Carol kept checking incoming whatevers and, well, talking. Sometimes to me, sometimes to work, sometimes to the people around us.
Same thing on the ride home. Constant and mind bendingly headachy.
She calls me on her way home from work and wants to talk about her day even though she’s on her way home from work and we’ll talk all about her day when she gets home.
And now tonight, after we’ve both been working 13-14 hours and she’s making dinner and me, I’m waiting for dinner and sipping cocktails, Miss Carol’s once again on the phone and talking.
Jesus. Give it a break, maybe.
Ya gotta realize, I work by myself and can go days talking to no one but myself and listening to a book on CD.
It’s jarring sometimes.
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