Dearest Siri,

Now that we are BFFs, I just can’t tell you how much I love and admire you. You are so wise about so many things. I can ask you where to get sports bras at a discount. I mean, really. And I will never  again not know where the nearest Starbucks is. Whew.

We do need to talk, though. It’s about my husband. I think he is smitten, and I wish you would quit chatting with him so much. He doesn’t really need directions to anywhere—he was an Eagle Scout, for God’s sake, and he can read maps.

And what’s with this Q and A about state capitals? Flirting, plain and simple. And I really resent your giving him all of these French words—he thinks he is fluent, and your helping him to say “Do you know the lyrics to Heartbreak Hotel?” in Francais is just exacerbating the annoyance factor.

I do have to hand it to you, though. Without you, we would never have found that little out-of-the-way bistro in South Carolina by the beach. And thank God you knew where we could get disposable diapers that weekend in Des Moines when we were babysitting.

Oh, and one more thing: If you could just mention to my husband that he should pay more attention to trimming the nostril hairs? I would really appreciate this, because he listens to you. You know, you could just throw that in to your next conversation—I know he isn’t going out into the garage every evening to sit in his car to meditate.

Until next time I need directions to the Outlet Mall, Molly

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