Mrs. Yoy: Text You Later (if I can remember you)
To distract myself from the dirty F word, no the other one, I've been throwing myself into unpacking and settling into our new home.
It's not that I'm sad to say goodbye to my thirties, it's just forty always seemed so old to me.
Why are you rambling about this, you may ask.
This evening, as I rinsed away the mom grime in the shower, my phone alerted me to a new text message.
After my shower, I picked up my phone.
In the end, I decided it was a wrong number and did what any upstanding human would do. I ignored it.