I was pecking away at New Delly's keyboard Saturday night when the phone rang. NOT GOOD! The time was 11:16 p.m. Nobody calls that late unless something is wrong. Or some doofus at the alarm company hasn't realized that Farmer H retired two years ago, and isn't going to drive to Work Town and chase a bird out of the plant. We got one of those calls last month, which I refused to answer.
Oh, no! The name on the caller ID was Genius! NO! I grabbed the phone after the first ring, since Farmer H was already in bed, suffering from a cold he mysteriously picked up somewhere. A myriad of scenarios spun in my head, all in the two seconds it took for me to reach the receiver. NO! It could be a car wreck. A fall (it WAS a Saturday night, and Genius has been known to go out on the town). A fight. A fire. A stroke, like an acquaintance's 30-year-old son, who told Siri "Call Dad" as he was losing consciousness. ANYTHING could be wrong.
I grabbed the phone, breathless from just sitting there flashing those possibilities through my mind.
"Hello? Hello? Hello? HELLO? Hello-oooo?"
Nothing. I could hear something going on. Like muted voices in the background. Huh. No music. Maybe a restaurant? Or bar with no sound system? NO! What if Genius was laying on the floor, and nobody had noticed his collapse?
I hung up the house phone. Picked up my cell phone and sent a text.
"Hello? Did your butt just call me? Am I part of a party game plot?"
Genius received a card game at Christmas that involves texting and calling people. Maybe that's all it was. Maybe he was having a game night, and I was part of an answer. Nothing to worry about, right? RIGHT?
At 11:25, my phone buzzed with a text.
"Apparently my butt did just call you."
"Okay. Just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."
"Nope. Apologies."
Well. That was certainly a relief. Not that Farmer H was worried. He didn't even know the phone rang.
And this is why phones should never be kept in the back pockets of pants. Since the invention of cell phones, I wonder how many mothers have had similar disastrous scenarios run though their heads late at night.
ReplyDeleteRiver,
ReplyDeleteYeah, I've talked to Genius since then, and he's baffled how his butt dialed me, even though he admitted that his phone was in his pocket. He said he was actually at home, hosting a game night in his apartment.