I was just making the “voice mail” icon on my phone disappear earlier today by (groan, just shoot me) listening to voice mails. One of them was my husband chastising me for turning up the heat last week without making sure all of the windows were closed first. And also turning it up too high (it was the middle of the night, dark, I couldn’t really see, yada yada).

Instead of calling me “Heb,” or some other nickname variant as he does 99. 9 percent of the time with me – he addressed me as “Heather” in the voice mail message. That’s when I KNEW I was in trouble!

Isn’t this kind of like when we were kids and our moms/dads called us by our first AND middle names? It works both ways – I don’t normally call my husband “Mike,” unless I’m addressing him with a serious matter. I wonder why it is we as humans tend to do this?

On another note, I find it interesting that I was chilly enough to turn up the heat in… JUNE! In June of last year, it was sweltering hot – and our A/C had gone out over Memorial Weekend. And in 2019, it’s been so nice that we haven’t needed to turn on the A/C, which has been replaced. Go figure…

As Gilda Radner would say, “It’s always something!”