purse on the arm of the couch, I searched through the mess for my phone while vowing, once again, to finally clean out my handbag. Right.
Once I located my cell, my stomach growled so I raided Rachel’s freezer. While waiting for my microwave dinner to “cook,” I propped myself onto a barstool and unlocked the keypad on my phone. I slid my finger across the screen to see if I had any Detailed Dating emails. Oh, got one!
To: smrt4ever
From: jusUnME
Ellen, I’ve enjoyed our discussions over the past few weeks and feel that you’re both witty and intelligent—an ideal combination. On my end, we’ve progressed through Detailed Dating’s “initial screening” process, so if you’re interested in the “face-to-face” part of DD’s procedure, perhaps you are free for dinner tomorrow night? You’ve mentioned your affinity for chow mein, so I thought Wok N’ Roll in Old Sac might be to your liking? Would seven-thirty work? Look forward to hearing from you. — Craig
I gazed at the humming microwave and considered his offer. Since I’d been planning on initiating the face-to-face, as well, that meant jusUnME and I were on the same page, just as I’d expected. I liked his take charge without being obnoxious ways, too. Guys who expect their girlfriend to plan everything? I’d pass. I prefer someone who could actually pick up the phone to make dinner reservations and, if I’m really lucky, call the babysitter to watch our two kids. I’d been planning on suggesting a coffee date (easier for a fast getaway, if needed), but he’d chosen the restaurant based on our previous exchanges and my preferences. Another point in his favor, which made up my mind. The entrepreneur would be my first face-to-face!
To: jusUnME
From: smrt4ever
Craig, Tomorrow night sounds fun. Thanks for giving in on our Chinese food debate. We’ll make sure not to order anything spicy for you! Looking forward to dinner and I’ll see you at seven-thirty . Ellen
After I hit SEND, the microwave went ding . Perfect timing.
I eased off the chair, removed a plate from the cupboard, and opened the microwave door. The smell of alfredo sauce wafted up my nose. Yum.
Hagh! Hagh!
At the unusual noise, my head whipped toward the living room, eyes scanning the room for the source of the strange sounds.
Hagh! Hagh!
My eyes froze on the spot where Rachel’s Snoopy-looking destroyer had apparently knocked over my purse—the contents dribbled from the arm of the couch, to the seat cushions, and onto the floor. The four-legged terror stood with his mouth wide as he continued making awful choking noises.
“Oh, no!” I ran over to Chester, who backed away, somehow managing to look guilty even as he hacked loudly. I grabbed my bag and searched for what he might’ve eaten. “What is wrong with you, dog? Have you no self-control?”
Hagh! Hagh!
In my purse, I pushed aside my wallet, hairbrush, and a bottle of aspirin, which I frantically examined . . . still capped, thank goodness. Various lip-glosses lay strewn across the couch, several canine-sized holes in the plastic tubes oozing various shades of pink onto the beige sofa. Could designer lip-gloss be toxic to dogs? I stared at Chester as he began foaming at the mouth.
My hands flew to the sides of my head, gripping my hair between my fingers. “Is he dying? What should I do?” My heart raced and I tried to take deep calming breaths to no avail. “Rachel’s going to kill me!”
I couldn’t call her, that’s for sure. She would freak and we didn’t have time for that. I had to act quickly. Who could help? Oh, wait. An animal doctor. Duh. I raced to the counter where I’d left my phone, and used my search app to locate the closest one.
Three blocks away. I could get there in time. At least I hoped.
“Hang on, Chester.” I grabbed his leash, a kitchen towel, and what was left of my shredded handbag. “We’re going to the vet.”
****
A hair before
Once I located my cell, my stomach growled so I raided Rachel’s freezer. While waiting for my microwave dinner to “cook,” I propped myself onto a barstool and unlocked the keypad on my phone. I slid my finger across the screen to see if I had any Detailed Dating emails. Oh, got one!
To: smrt4ever
From: jusUnME
Ellen, I’ve enjoyed our discussions over the past few weeks and feel that you’re both witty and intelligent—an ideal combination. On my end, we’ve progressed through Detailed Dating’s “initial screening” process, so if you’re interested in the “face-to-face” part of DD’s procedure, perhaps you are free for dinner tomorrow night? You’ve mentioned your affinity for chow mein, so I thought Wok N’ Roll in Old Sac might be to your liking? Would seven-thirty work? Look forward to hearing from you. — Craig
I gazed at the humming microwave and considered his offer. Since I’d been planning on initiating the face-to-face, as well, that meant jusUnME and I were on the same page, just as I’d expected. I liked his take charge without being obnoxious ways, too. Guys who expect their girlfriend to plan everything? I’d pass. I prefer someone who could actually pick up the phone to make dinner reservations and, if I’m really lucky, call the babysitter to watch our two kids. I’d been planning on suggesting a coffee date (easier for a fast getaway, if needed), but he’d chosen the restaurant based on our previous exchanges and my preferences. Another point in his favor, which made up my mind. The entrepreneur would be my first face-to-face!
To: jusUnME
From: smrt4ever
Craig, Tomorrow night sounds fun. Thanks for giving in on our Chinese food debate. We’ll make sure not to order anything spicy for you! Looking forward to dinner and I’ll see you at seven-thirty . Ellen
After I hit SEND, the microwave went ding . Perfect timing.
I eased off the chair, removed a plate from the cupboard, and opened the microwave door. The smell of alfredo sauce wafted up my nose. Yum.
Hagh! Hagh!
At the unusual noise, my head whipped toward the living room, eyes scanning the room for the source of the strange sounds.
Hagh! Hagh!
My eyes froze on the spot where Rachel’s Snoopy-looking destroyer had apparently knocked over my purse—the contents dribbled from the arm of the couch, to the seat cushions, and onto the floor. The four-legged terror stood with his mouth wide as he continued making awful choking noises.
“Oh, no!” I ran over to Chester, who backed away, somehow managing to look guilty even as he hacked loudly. I grabbed my bag and searched for what he might’ve eaten. “What is wrong with you, dog? Have you no self-control?”
Hagh! Hagh!
In my purse, I pushed aside my wallet, hairbrush, and a bottle of aspirin, which I frantically examined . . . still capped, thank goodness. Various lip-glosses lay strewn across the couch, several canine-sized holes in the plastic tubes oozing various shades of pink onto the beige sofa. Could designer lip-gloss be toxic to dogs? I stared at Chester as he began foaming at the mouth.
My hands flew to the sides of my head, gripping my hair between my fingers. “Is he dying? What should I do?” My heart raced and I tried to take deep calming breaths to no avail. “Rachel’s going to kill me!”
I couldn’t call her, that’s for sure. She would freak and we didn’t have time for that. I had to act quickly. Who could help? Oh, wait. An animal doctor. Duh. I raced to the counter where I’d left my phone, and used my search app to locate the closest one.
Three blocks away. I could get there in time. At least I hoped.
“Hang on, Chester.” I grabbed his leash, a kitchen towel, and what was left of my shredded handbag. “We’re going to the vet.”
****
A hair before
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