Why I Declared My Love to the Sprint Man Yesterday(No, not the one with trenchcoat from the commercials)
So I was leaving a press event yesterday. It was hot. I was sweaty. I was wearing uncomfortable shoes. And I needed to trek off to a new-agey store in the Village to find some crystals for a story I'm working on. I try to call my boss' cell to see if she wants me to actually buy crystals or just do research.

The phone rings a few times, and then I get a recording telling me that my account is not authorized to call that number. Um, OK. Maybe the number is wrong. I try the office in case she's still there. Same recording. What the fuck? My phone was working fine earlier that afternoon when I called and left a message for my cousin. I try another number. No luck. So I call Customer Care to find out what they've done to screw up my phone and make them fix it. Standing outside and sweating while on hold is not fun. Especially when you are just half a block away from a photo shoot involving a model standing in fake rain. Standing under a giant sprinkler would make the experience slightly less trying.

So I talk to a Sprint man finally. He is not the one I love. He basically told me there was nothing he could do about it and to just turn my phone off for 30 seconds and then back on and see if that helped. Otherwise, I'd have to go to another phone and call back later. Argh! I'm not at home, and I don't have a landline, people! I call my boss from a payphone and leave a message that Morgana's Chamber is going to have to wait because I have to go knock some heads together at the Sprint store.

I elbow my way through sweaty crowds on the rush hour subway. I get to the Sprint store and try calling Julie just in case my phone magically fixed itself while I was stuck underground. No such luck. I get to a landline in the Sprint store without having to wait in line. After a very brief stint on hold, I talk to a Sprint man with charming Southern accent. I tell him my problem, and he jokingly asks what I did wrong. He also asks if I'd lost my phone at all that day. No. He says that's weird because my service has been suspended but he has no idea why. He punches in a few things and tells me to try making a call. I call Julie, and ... she answers! Hooray! This is when I professed my love to the Sprint Man, and I know he heard me because I heard him chuckle in the background. So thank you, Sprint Man, for performing miracles and fixing my phone. And, yes, Sprint Man, I really do love you. (But I have a fiery hatred for whichever co-worker of yours screwed up my service to begin with.)

OK, end of long, rambling story.

I also love shirtless neighbors!
If anything good came out of doing laundry in today's hot, hot heat, it was that it forced my hot, hot neighbors to take off their shirts as they carried two mattress and box spring sets up our five flights of stairs and into their new apartment. And as an extra treat, they also had hot shirtless friends helping them!