Charlotte is always in an uproar about something. Her dog ran away. She went looking for him for hours but found him waiting by the front door. How could she yell at him? If she did, she’d be sending the wrong message – don’t wait by the door. There’s the friend who apologized way too late to save the friendship. Or the fact that omelet was misspelled on the menu at the local diner. As a friend, you fear that nothing escapes her razor-like focus and so when you invite her over it’s for coffee not drinks. And never dinner. Over appetizers, the main meal and dessert invariably you reveal a piece of yourself you wish you hadn’t. You’re prattling on about how Italians are all about vowels but Yugoslavs never use them. You think you’re being witty or at the least not boring only to discover days later your mindless remarks are posted on her blog for all the world to read.