The Mr. in My Pocket

I keep a phone number in my back pocket.

It’s the Mr. I call when I need a little something quick and easy to help me get through a hectic day.

The well-worn scrap with the digits for the Johnny-on-the-spot I call when I’m tired of being a tired working mom and want a little spice midweek.

This Mr. does not make me wait. He knows my cravings and always leaves me satisfied.

Nothing is free. But he takes cash or credit cards and a tip.

My husband knows. He even nudges me to reach out to my Mr. when he can tell I’ve had enough and need a little something different.

Communication is key to a happy marriage. 

“Hey babe, Mr. Stiryfry tonight? I can’t stand the thought of cooking.”

“Honey, I totally forgot about baseball. Mr. Stirfry?”

“I’ve been looking at screens all damn day and my eyes are bleeding.  Can we just call Mr. Stirfry?”

And then, my Mr. delivers what we need.

Hot and spicy, salty and yummy. LoMein or MeiFun. Garlic chicken with fried rice. Schezwan tofu and eggs rolls. Dinner delivered in cardboard containers we toss when we’re done.

A weekday reprieve we all need.

Everybody needs a Mr.