It's been both a long and short Spring Break out here on Master's week (god, I hate golf so much), and it's winding down to a close. We stayed up a little later, woke up a little later, and the days were hot and full of shenanigans and even some spring cleaning (that was out of left field, let me tell you).
The reason I write this is because a weird thing happened to me the day after a couple delicious full-strength gin & tonics made me so loud I was repeatedly removed from populated vent channels. At some point during or after such hijinks I put my cell phone down and couldn't remember where. Being a lazy asshole, I couldn't be bothered to go look for it.
Picking up my house phone, I dialed what I thought was probably my number. (In addition to being a lazy asshole, I am also terrible at remembering stuff.) I wasn't sure, but whatever.
Instead of the loud ringing I expected, a young woman answered.
"Oh, sorry, I dialed the wrong number."
"Wait, I just picked this phone up off the ground, did you lose it?"
What?! [In my head, Ethan is already getting a huge lecture for taking my phone outside again.] "Um. Well, I did misplace it, I was just expecting to hear it ring in my house."
"Oh! Well, are you still at the Tulip Festival? I can bring it over to you?"
Tulip Fffffffffffffffff- "Uh... I'm in Augusta, Georgia. Where's the Tulip Festival?"
"The Tulip Festival? It's in Woodburn, Oregon! How did your phone get out here?"
"Wait, I just picked this phone up off the ground, did you lose it?"
What?! [In my head, Ethan is already getting a huge lecture for taking my phone outside again.] "Um. Well, I did misplace it, I was just expecting to hear it ring in my house."
"Oh! Well, are you still at the Tulip Festival? I can bring it over to you?"
Tulip Fffffffffffffffff- "Uh... I'm in Augusta, Georgia. Where's the Tulip Festival?"
"The Tulip Festival? It's in Woodburn, Oregon! How did your phone get out here?"
Oh, for the love of-- "It didn't! I just uh, happened to call the wrong number of someone else who just lost their phone."
"..."
"..."
So, after mutual declarations of weirdness, she took the phone to the lost & found, I got the correct number, and my phone was found. (It was on the console table in plain sight, of course.)
I've been told since that I should buy a lottery ticket. Once again, however, I'm still a lazy asshole, so unless I can buy one by calling a number, the alignment of stars and/or splotches of bird poop on my car will continue to mean nothing.
Happy spring break, everybody!
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