I was on my way out when the phone rang.
I checked the caller ID and saw that it was coming from me,
on the home line.
It rang like 3 times.
I saw my cell phone on the table so it wasn’t an accidental pocket call.
I kept thinking to myself that it was like one of those horror movies where you hear the operator tell you that the creepy calls you’ve been getting have been,
“coming from inside the house.”
Cue scary music
making Nigel go around room to room,
to make sure there wasn’t someone
using one of the land line phones.
As evidenced by my depleting supply of candy corn.
But I found no one.
Did I feel threatened…by ME?
|Me at Julie’s Barbie party.|
“Yeah, I’m in the basement. It’s time to die.”
Or something more horrifying than that.
Or was I afraid of “Chatty Me”? (I think we all know how I can yammer on and on.) I’d pick up the phone and there I would be, already in the middle of a conversation,
And I would be all like,
“I do NOT have time for one of your crazy dreams!
I was heading to the grocery store."
Or was I afraid it was going to be “Bossy Me”?
“Hey, can you bring the laundry up from the basement?
I want to fold it.”
“Sure, no prob--hey! I did that yesterday! Are you Karmen from the past? Does that make me Karmen from the future??”
She would seem all confused.
So I’d throw in a,
“Jeremy is going to go crazy about the smell of stink bugs when he removes the upstairs bathroom window.
Be sure to wash the hand towel. Trust me.”
“I will. Thanks!”
Then I’d hang up and smile and think,
She’s sweet. A little yesterday, but a good egg.
But now I will never know.
Because I screened my own call,