Dwayne the bathtub, I'm dwonding!
Well, I had that kind of morning. Not the bathtub morning, the Dwayne morning. And I don't even know a Dwayne.
While I was at the quilt meeting last night, two calls came though on the answering machine at the house. The first was Dwayne, he says:
"Hey, this is Dwayne. Do you want me to work for you tomorrow? Call me."
I figured he would get no answer and call the appropriate person back. And he thought he did. The second call went like this:
"Heeeeey! This is Dwayyyyyyne!" he says, sounding a bit sloshed. "Do ya want me to come by and work? You know, at the house? With the stuff? I can beeee therrrrre."
I really hope he is not an air traffic controller or a pharmacist. Frank was home, but never picks up the phone to answer it. Poor Dwayne, here he is, enjoying his adult beverages, and hoping he has to work tomorrow, so he really does need to know if he can drink that last few left in the six pack. Or not.
I am sleeping peacefully when at 6:25 AM the phone rings. My heart jumps since the last episode with my mother on Wednesday where her heart looked like it would fail, and the nursing home called. Now we are just waiting for the call. So here, at 6:25 AM, the phone is ringing and I feel the panic. I reach over and groggily answer: Hello?
Dwayne says: "Hey, do you want me to work for you tomorrow?" He must have finished that six pack anyway. I say, "No, I think you have the wrong number."
|Now, THIS Dwayne I might have entertained!|
He insist, "Yes, You are the lady with the tree. Do you want me to come and work for you tomorrow?"
"No, you have the wrong number," I insist. He is not to be swayed. Must the the Bloody Mary he had for breakfast. "I don't have a tree."
He is persistent, I have to give him that. He says, "Yes, you are the lady with the tree. I worked on your tree. And now I can come and work on that back fence some." Now I know he has never "worked on my tree" I have Frank who is my fence man. And my tree man. And my lawn mowing man. And my light changing man.
"Dwayne," I say. "You have the wrong number. You did not work on my tree. You called me in the middle of the fricking night to ask me about a tree, and you did not work on my tree!"
There is a long pause, and he says, "It is not the middle of the night. It is the morning! "
I have to give him that. My alarm rang as we were talking. And DiNozzo checked, all my trees are fine.