“Honey, I’m going to be late.”
“I just got rear-ended.”
“What? Are you ok?”
“Yes, I’m fine. It was very low speed. We’re waiting for the police.”
“Where are you?”
“95. Between 6 and 5.”*
“Didn’t you say you were going to leave at 4? Shouldn’t you be on the Cross County right now?”
“Yeah, well, you know. Things happen.”
“Ok, enjoy. Candle lighting is at 6:04.”
Everybody wish me luck.
UPDATE: 5:30pm. There is no way on earth, short of sprouting wings, that he’s going to make it home. (Police have not yet showed.) That is the last time I buy him, in absentia, a donut for Kiddush that I don’t like also.
* Anyone who knows where he works, relative to where we live, knows that this is Not At All Close to our house and is, in fact, spitting distance from where he works.