Newspaper thief

Last night, I had so much to do that I didn’t turn off my computer until 2 a.m.  I was sound asleep by 2:30 a.m.

At 8:30 a.m., the telephone rang.  I picked it up, noticed the lack of caller-identification and said hello.

The man on the other end of the line launched into an angry tirade that went something like this:  “Stop stealing my newspaper!  Every morning my newspaper is gone and I know you are stealing it and I want you to stop taking my newspaper!”

I interrupted, “Excuse me?” and he continued on, ranting about his stolen newspaper.

I thought he probably had the wrong number, so I said, “Excuse me?  What house number are you talking about?  Because we have not taken your newspaper . . . ” and he grew angrier and louder and said, “Do you want me to come over because you do NOT want me to come over to your house and I AM COMING TO YOUR PORCH RIGHT NOW SO YOU BETTER WATCH OUT!”

And he hung up on me.

My heart pounded.  Now wide awake, I cast about for the suitable attire to possibly call the police and fend off a raging lunatic with a thirst for newspapers.  Also, I put on my glasses so I could see.

I feared my kids would open the door if someone knocked, so I hurried downstairs to find my house completely quiet.  Every one of my children were still soundly sleeping.  I checked the locks on every door, deadbolted the front door and peered out the front window to see if a crazed man was approaching my house.

Nothing.  No one.  Only sweet, peaceful morning silence.

I decided the nutcase on the phone dialed my number by mistake.

I returned to bed.

But it took me a good hour before I was settled down enough to sleep.

In other news . . . well, there is no other news because someone is stealing newspapers.  But it’s not me.