Liar, Liar

My phone tracks my steps. Which is supposedly a nice little program. Except I rarely actually carry my phone on me.

So, now, I have these arguments with my phone —

“Two hundred and fourteen steps? No, you took 214 steps. I spent eight hours cleaning and organizing the basement. You spent eight hours on the ping pong table. And you kept dinging at me that you were dying. Dying!! On a ping pong table! I was the one trying to drag a three wheeler with four flat tires!”

Inevitably, Younger ends up eying me with concern. “You okay, Mom?”

“I’m fine.”

My phone is a liar.

But I’m fine.

Two hundred and fourteen steps?

Thbbbbllllllllttttttt.

 

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