Because today I sent a text message to the wrong person. Not once…but twice.
Like most of the texting I do, the message was perfectly innocuous. I was getting ready to meet up with a couple of American pals for coffee, and instead of asking *them* where they were, I asked the Alpha Geek.
The question must have surprised him since we had spoken earlier in the day about his family's plans to be out for afternoon. Still, he very promptly replied, "Home," which confused the hell out of me since I did not know he was responding to something I had sent. Once I realized what I'd done, I zapped back a quick apology for messaging the wrong recipient, then copied the original text and re-sent it to my coffee klatsch.
Or so I thought.
A few minutes later I get a text from Dr. Darling (very unusual for her, especially while out on a postal route) in which she very cheekily described the exact location of a certain part of her anatomy in Copenhagen (a nice touch). But CRAP. I'm already running late for the coffee meet-up and after multiple text messages (some of which crossed international borders!) I STILL don't know where I'm going.
On the third try I finally got my question to the right folks and we were able to meet up for a lovely city stroll in the sunshine and a cup of coffee. And whatever embarrassment I should have been feeling over my incompetent texting episode was completely over-shadowed by the vision I had in my head of a certain part of Dr. Darling's anatomy in Copenhagen.