I worked at Toro last night. It wasn't a super late night, but we weren't finished closing the restaurant until late in the 11 p.m. hour, and I didn't walk in the door until after midnight. I turned the key as quietly as I could in the lock, thinking the Mathematician might be asleep. Then I heard the faint sounds of the TV in the background.
"Hello???" I called, my voice echoing off the walls of our excessively long hallway. The Mathematician and I live in a huge apartment that used to be inhabited by myself and two other girlfriends. Long story, but I ended up getting stuck with the lease and a palace of an apartment in the heart of the South End. (I am not complaining.)
"Hahaha...Oh, hey baby!" the Mathematician answered. "I'm in here." I hear jazzy music with a Latin beat in the background. It sounds so familiar...like a certain theme-song...
"Baby, what are you watching?" I ask.
"Sex & the City."
"That's right," the Mathematician answers. "I'm watching Sex & the City. Of my own volition. And I'm also eating those cinnamon chocolate biscuits I bought at Lionette's the other day. They're delicious."
"Yup," he says. "What do you think of that?"
"I think it sounds like you have PMS."