The Norman Transcript
NORMAN — Before I unleash the next couple of sentences, I want to warn some of you to be prepared for some harsh words. OK. Here we go. I don’t enjoy receiving or sending text messages. There, I said it. I love the cell phone and think it’s the best thing ever invented. Honestly, I don’t know how we ever lived our lives without it. I just don’t appreciate a text message.
Sometimes when I tell people that their reaction is similar to if I’d just insulted their mother. I’m old-fashioned, I know, but I’d rather hear your voice than read your words on a small screen.
In the few instances that I do break down and text, I usually end up spelling something wrong. I don’t know if any of you have noticed this, but sometimes the simplest of words can be changed to words that I can’t print here. My fingers type faster than my mind thinks sometimes, and, without fail, those words usually go to people that I wished hadn’t seen such language.
I have received a few texts in my lifetime that hold special meaning to me. One is from my niece. It was such a sweet note that I saved it. After I wiped away some tears, of course. Another text I had was from my husband. I know that most of you ladies get nice texts during the day from your husbands saying how much they love you. Or that they are making you a gourmet dinner that night. I get those, too. And those are the only times that I can really appreciate the value of a text message. But the text I received from my husband Friday morning was my favorite. It was simple, but packed a powerful punch. “I left my wallet at home. Can you bring it to me?” Even now, I still get chills.
What is a girl to do in this situation? I mean I had his wallet. Which meant I had his credit cards. There wasn’t enough time before I went to work to do any online shopping. I couldn’t stop at the mall first either. I’m a snoop, but I couldn’t bear myself to go through it to see what was inside it. Although a quick innocent peek did reveal something green that I’m pretty sure had the face of Andrew Jackson on it.
Being a girl who doesn’t skip too many meals and since it was a Friday I did the only thing I could. I texted him back, making sure none of the words were foul ones, and told him that I was going to leave his wallet at one of my favorite restaurants. He claims it was extortion. But I claim it was a lesson that he needed to be taught. That and my love for tacos. He disagreed, but knew he was at my mercy. He knew he had to do the only thing he could do. He had to buy his wife some tacos in order to ever see his wallet again. A small price to pay, if you ask me.