Wrong Number

This is one of those “just because” kind of pictures.  I think I found it on Stumbled Upon, or maybe Facebook, but I like it and it reminds me of what my surroundings look like when I’m scrapbooking.  That’s one of my ongoing hobbies, neglected for the past several years because of other interests.  Now it will be neglected a while longer because the apartment is starting to look reasonably neat and I don’t want the mess strewn all over the floor again.

So, anyway, I was just starting to check my email tonight when the phone rang.  I answered, and it was a wrong number, but such a nice wrong number.  The lady was calling from Hopkinsville, KY, where they have both a college and a mental hospital.

I add that information, because we started chatting, and the call lasted almost an hour.  We seemed to have a lot in common, and by the time we hung up we were finishing each others sentences.  I’m not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but I had a really fun time talking to her.  She was actually trying to find a Wink lady she went to nursing school with, and since my name begins with an A, I’m the first one listed in the phone book.  Ya gotta start somewhere.

We were exchanging addresses and recipes before we ended the call, so I think it can safely be said that I have a new friend, telephone style.  I’ve talked to a lot of people that way in my life time.  The chance meetings from wrong numbers can be fun and end with friendship, or, they can be just the opposite.  This one seems to have been the start of a friendship that I may or may not want to continue, depending on further calls and letters.

The other kind once hit me in the backside with the force of a kicking mule.  I was the one making the call, and I was calling one night after work to order a pizza.  Have no idea what number I dialed wrong, but I mistakenly called a man who had caller ID on his phone, because he called me back to ask if he could come over and share the pizza with me later that night.  Uh, no, I don’t think I want to share, but thanks for the offer.  He would bring the beer.  Thanks just the same, but I no thanks.  He would take me out for dinner one night.  Again, I don’t think so.  I’m married to a prize fighter and he’s really jealous, or maybe a quarterback, or is he with the FBI?  I’ll ask when he comes home and get back to you, but he’s really big.

These pics both came from Facebook.  The second one seems to explain the first one better than  anything I could say.

So, tonight, my phone call was fun, funny, happy and had us both laughing and talking at the same time.  By now I should be checking my other email address, but my phone conversation was just too much fun to cut short, even though someone kept trying to call me during our conversation.  I absolutely hate call waiting.  To me it seems very rude to tell the person you are talking to that you have another call and ask them to hold on while you decide if the next caller is more important than they are.  Yeah, I know, it was probably my daughter calling me while I was talking to a total stranger, but that doesn’t excuse rudeness.  When someone puts me on hold while they take another call I immediately hang up.  That saves them the trouble of deciding which call is the more important of the two.  Oh, sorry, I really didn’t mean to vent here.

So, today, I did more de-cluttering, and found some lost socks in the process.  I was almost at the point of buying new ones because I had given up the search for the lost ones.  And that is totally off the subject of the phone call, but I’ve finished with that one, so I’m moving on.  I’m also flying on caffeine at the moment, and really should have known better than to open a Dr. Pepper this late in the evening, but when I opened the fridge for a drink it was staring at me saying “Drink me, drink me”, so I did.

Okay, say goodnight Angie.  “Goodnight Angie”.

A.