Dude, where's my phone?
Please forgive me creepers, I spent 2.5 weeks with T and it seems that all I have to talk about are stories where he is one of the leading characters. Now that I’m back in the 405, it seems my friends will intertwine back into my daily activities and we’ll get a little more balance. But, I do have a pretty funny story for you.
Picture this. It’s the Friday before Christmas and my birthday earrings have broken after a week accessorizing everything from sweat pants to my Sunday best. T and I brave the holiday traffic and venture to Charlotte’s SouthPark Mall.
This particular mall is quite lovely housing stores from Kate Spade to Tiffanys and Nordstroms to Dillards. After sending my earrings off for repairs, we hop in the car making our way to the South Carolina state line. You see, we were off to the first stop of our whirlwind of a Tour de South.
Twenty five minutes later, we were approximately five miles from the mall in the midst of bumper to bumper traffic when I began to scramble for my phone.
“Call my phone?” phone rings…. “Hello, this is Tiffanys. I believe this phone has been forgotten…” silence.
As the car turned around, I giggled to myself. This was the beginning of me making silly mistakes and T patiently correcting them.
This guy is a keeper. He didn’t even get upset.
…. I would have been upset.
Editors* Note: If you’re reading this blog and happen to live in North Carolina – say hello. We may need to be friends within the next year or two.
*I, Brooke Clay, happen to be the editor. That’s also why there are a few typos here and there. This is a blog, not a novel, and we’re just keepin’ it real.