In Stormy Weather.

Well I almost died last night. (And NO, Morgan* and Moses*, that is not an exaggeration). While finishing up a pedicure, this insane wind hit Manhattan. The glass windows of the salon began to cave in and lean so all of us pampered ladies ran into the back of the salon to take cover. I honestly thought a tornado had hit and my knees were buckling. I did not want to die waiting outside a waxing room. One woman outside got hit by a fallen sign, sliced her head and we had to call 9-1-1. I felt like I was in a bad disaster movie and was waiting for Pierce Brosnan to show up and save me. Alas, I got a few bald NYFDs instead.

While all this was happening, I got a phone call from Columbia. I didn't want to listen to his voicemail because I thought, If I die - I don't want the last voice I hear to be from a guy I smooched at a bar that meant nothing to me. (And just for laughs, I later listened to his voicemail on speakerphone so Morgan* and Moses* could revel in it. He invited me to a "yazz concert this Saturday" - and by yazz, he meant jazz. I love latin men).

I guess what bothers me most is that I heard from the ex last night. He called around 10 and didn't leave a message. The missed call just sat there in my phone, staring at me. I had to delete it because I couldn't bear to see his name. He knows how I react in stormy weather, and I bet he was worried. Which was nice of him and all. But I have to remind myself that not talking to him, not responding to these things - is the best thing to do for me. It's the only way I can keep on keeping on.