chevrolet, eastern avenue, 10.14

I got a cryptic call from my ex-girlfriend last night, asking me to do a favor for her and our cat, whom she took when she moved out. I had just gotten back from scuba class, and my hair still stank of chlorine from the pool and cigarette smoke from the instructor’s ashtray after we took him to celebrate our final pool dive. I played the first message- the same jerk who keeps calling me about “Debt Consolidation” (but not as annoying—or as creepy—as the used car dealer who folded up a newspaper ad in a plain number ten envelope, with a cryptic Post-It attached that said, “Bill, this looks like a great bargain for you.”) and erased that; the second one I mistook for Jen’s boss at first, by the way she pronounced her name. I think she’s going to ask me to take the cat back, but I’m not sure. Only a call tonight will tell.