Cause I'm a midget
I hate the area code thing here in Arizona. If you are dialing from the same area code you’re calling to, the phone shrieks in your ear, then a snotty voice informs you “Moron, you do NOT need to dial that area code, because you’re IN it”. In California, they were happy you took the time to make that extra effort and dial the area code. The phone went straight to ring, not straight to primal scream.Whew. Glad I got that out of my system. It was really bothering me.Speaking of bothersome, I have N on the brain. I got a little kiss last night from him, which was, unfortunately, a bit more awkward than romantic. See, he is literally 13 inches taller than I am. At one point in the evening he made a joke about needing to start carrying a stepladder around for me if he was going to continue to be around. Hey, bring on the stepladders, I say. I sure needed one for a goodnight peck. We hugged goodbye, and there I was, smothered by his chest, trying to figure out how to manage the goodnight kiss. Climb him like a monkey? No. Make him get on his knees? Tempting, but again, no. He said something about me being so short and I had a moment of retarded brilliance.I totally grabbed him by the wrists, dragged him to a curb, hopped up onto said curb, and made it happen. Yaaay sidewalks!