Right after I sent MM that e-mail this morning, he IM’d me, all chipper and shit, calling me by a nickname and asking where my cube was so he could bring my umbrella to me.

As I sat with a dumbfounded expression on my face, staring at my monitor, he sent another message. He supposed that I didn’t want a personal visit, considering my e-mail.

Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.

I replied, saying that I had no idea what was going on, that he hadn’t replied to my e-mail, that he was acting weird this weekend, and I hadn’t heard from him in days.

“What e-mail?”

Oh dear God.

He claimed to have not received the e-mail and asked to which account I sent it. G-mail, I told him. Hotmail is better, he said; I don’t have your hotmail, countered I. I forwarded the e-mail I wrote on Sunday to his work account … and haven’t heard a word from him since. This was at 9:30 a.m.

I cannot get out of town and to Michigan soon enough. Miss Monique needs to get her drink on and clear her head!!!!