I’m not home, as it happens, nor is he when I return his call, and this goes on for a few weeks more. Our game of phone tag lasts so long that he eventually stops identifying himself, and all he says on the answering machine is “Bah! I wish you had a cell phone,” or “If a cow laughed would milk come out of its nose?” Every time I ring him back I have doubts this time he’ll return it—men have such short attention spans, after all.It’s a Tuesday evening and Morven and I are playing armchair Jeopardy, calling out the answers before Alex Trebek’s through reading the questions. I’m painting my nails and Morven is crocheting another receiving blanket. The telephone rings. Altering my voice requires only a little oomph, so that’s generally how I choose to answer it.“At last!” says Justin. “When can I see you?”“Whenever you like,” I reply, and Morven rolls her eyes.AT THE Blind Pig he starts a game of telling me all the places he’s been, and all the places he wants to go, and asking me if I’ve been there.
