So, Dick works for a company that is in the top 10 of conservative companies in the entire world. He loves his job. Even though he has to wear a suit everyday and shine his shoes and be interviewed as to his personal righteousness every two years. He actually says he doesn’t notice his tie anymore. (Dick = ties like Jane = bras, if that tells you anything).

It being the month of Love, Dick and I have been communicating more than usual. I lie: we communicate pretty well all the time. I could hate my life, hate Dick, hate the kids, hate . . . don’t know what else there is to hate, but I would tell Dick about it first. We talk.

We even have stupid endearing nicknames for each other. He calls me Scrappy, I call him Dickie Boy (only with his real name instead of Dick). And other nicknames for other things that I won’t share in public. As I said, we talk, and, uh, snuggle.

Today I google talk’d (like IM) Dick around 10:30. I wrote, “you there, hot stuff?” because I had no idea he was, at that moment, giving a demonstration on his laptop to the general counsel of this very conservative company. I don’t think I’ve ever used the phrase “hot stuff” before in my entire life.

They had a good laugh. Dick still has his dream job. And I’ll be a little more cautious in my communication from now on.