1. I'm not big on talking on the phone. I never have been, not even when I had a Sabrina the Teenage Witch phone, where Salem the Cat alerted me that the phone was going to ring before it actually happened. (I was not fooled; I knew Salem's voice was just replacing the first ring.)
Lately it's gotten to the point where the only person I speak to on the phone is Y. We tend to say I love you at the end of a conversation -- no matter how mundane -- and it's become a habit.
Which I guess is sweet, but now every time I talk on the phone to someone else, I'm terrified that I'll say I love you at the end of the phone call. On work-related phone calls, I could be talking about an article I need to write, or a message I need to relay, but all I can hear is my inner voice chanting don't say I love you, don't say I love you, don't say I love you.
2. While taking a group exercise class recently, the teacher yelled, NOW SPEED SKATE! Everyone broke into some kind of synchronized movement that looked vaguely familiar from the last Winter Olympics, but that I can only imagine you are taught shortly after learning to walk in Minnesota. I did jumping jacks.
Don't worry, though, I'm learning. (sidenote: I need a better photographer to follow me around Minneapolis. Y just isn't cutting it anymore.)
3. The other night, I got out of bed in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. When I got back in bed, Y rolled over, said something unintelligible (probably about some patient's vital signs), but then -- very clearly -- called me Kim.
My first, half asleep thought was that I hoped he was having a dream that he was Kanye West. Then I fell asleep.
The next day I remembered what had happened, and the following conversation ensued. I think all of you children of the 90s will agree that Y's attempt to explain himself was just weak: