It was Thursday and Lo was late getting home. She hadn’t texted or called or anything to say that she’d be late. I had texted her around 7:00 to find out where she was and I got no response. That was unusual, so I tried calling. No answer.
Finally, around 8:00 she sauntered in the door. Her hair was done and I saw right away that her nails were done. “Where the hell were you?” I asked, not so nicely.
“I’m sorry, Daddio,” she said in her sweet little-girl voice, as she reached out to caress my chest. “I went to get a haircut and then for a mani-pedi.”