“Henceforth, do your messages yourself” (Romeo and Juliet, ii.5). It wasn’t a bad Friday at all. The weather, by the time I hit the trail, was only about halfway between 90 and 100 which seems comparatively cool for a change. It was another Virgo birthday night, but it’s not like I didn’t get some mileage out of the old girl (“Kramer, I’ve been too old for you ever since I was 23”). Since she’s suddenly single, I bought her some birthday dinner and some birthday ice cream, a birthday cigar (tubed H. Uppmann — nothing cheap) and then we joined her roommate and friends at a local pub. But the kicker was, she sells cell phones (by the sea shore, right try saying that one real fast three times). And I got my upgrade which means I have this really cool phone that’s digital and cellular and probably does more than I know what to do with it. It’s one of those cute little phones, you know, about the size of a European box of matches. “Excuse me, but my pocket is ringing…”