Last Friday, I was meeting two dear friends at our (mostly) monthly breakfast club, and for the first time in history, I beat them there. A chatty waitress met me just inside the door, and I explained that there’d be three of us and perhaps one of them was already there. She said oh yes, she’s in the “little girls’ room.” Why is that phrase still allowed in 2024? Anyway, I nodded, saw a mobile phone pseudo-paperweight atop a stack of assorted crap on the table that looked like it could belong to my friend Joanie. So, I sat down. About four minutes later, a dark-haired woman I did not…