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.