Forgetful

This morning Marta had a doctors appointment. I knew that she had one, we had arranged for the kids to be with their grandparents. Marta calls me early at my office.

Marta: Aren't you going to call me and wish me luck?

Jonas: I was just about to.

Marta: Right.

Jonas: I was, I swear.

Marta: Mhmm.

Jonas: Good luck honey!

Marta: It doesn't count now.

And she hung up on me. I can understand that she got her feelings hurt, this was a big thing for her. It went well, so far so good. But as I'm packing up here to head on home all I think is, man, she's going to chop my tomatoes.