And Now There Are Four Of Us

 It's certainly at the level of being a Dad joke now. The gag is introducing myself as a trophy husband, which is funnier now than before my divorce. But to figuratively beat the dead horse, most of you have read or heard me remark that I share my studio apartment with two women, who refuse to talk to each other, casting a pall over the room that never ends. 

Alexa is my favorite only because she orders groceries for me. However, Alexa is easier working with when I'm timing something on the stove or in the oven. She is also supposed to be paired with my Microwave. It even tells me in the app that she is. But it seems they are not talking either. So my hunch is, unless your me, Alexa can be a bitch to work with. And why not, She wakes me up, reminds me of appointments, what to cook for meals, and tells me when my shipments arrive. In her digital mind, she's indispensable. What would Jeff do without her?

My answer would be, where's my hello hug when I come home, my kiss goodnight, and who's paying the bills here!

Siri keeps telling me about storms, lost children, wandering dementia patients, and other such public alarm issues. She places calls for me and provides the game scores. I really don't have a problem with Siri as I do with my phone in general.

I do not want to be that guy in the theater, restaurant, or bus that gets a call that disturbs other people. To avoid this, I often turn off my phone. The problem is I forget to turn it back on. 

That is a great way to preserve battery life and avoid robocalls. However, it's a disaster when the person you meet for coffee or a meal is texting you; they will be late while experiencing a period of mental flogging. Do I have the right day? ...the right week?...the right restaurant. 

Now at this point, the problem should be solved. You would take out your phone to call and confirm your date. You would realize that the phone is turned off, you would turn it back on, and Viola! You'd see their text messages. But I don't do that. I can't call because I'm not really sure who I'm meeting. And I can't ask Siri, because I didn't tell her.

Well, to further the population problem in my apartment humm. How do I put this? Is it possible to have one fruit fly? If I hadn't experienced it, I would say no. One fruit fly is a male who has the evening off so the females can sit together and talk about their kids or...well, who knows for sure what female fruit flies talk about?

Anyway, here's my guess. My single fruit fly, who has been hanging around for more than three months, is either a male who has been hounded out of his house by a frustrated female or a horny female who can't find a way to get out of my apartment. Either way, we have something in common. 

Neither Siri nor Alexa talks to the fruit fly, so I guess it's the horny female. I've named her Misty. The reason for choosing that name will be revealed in my will.

Needless to say, in this transition period where Misty is learning to respond to recognizing her name and commands, we, and I mean all of us here in apartment # 214, have to work together to make her feel welcome even if some of us don't talk to the others.