I have to laugh my ass off. Over the last week I'm getting a spate of text messages from phone numbers near Annapolis, Maryland asking if I'm available that night or day and what my fees are. When I reply that they clearly have the wrong number because I'm old and gray and not a hooker the reactions range from sheepish to 'Who said anything about sex?' huffy.
Dude, your text message asked how much I charged to get together and 'party' - I seriously doubt you think you're reaching out to the local Tupperware dealer asking her to bring by her Harvest Tumblers and burping lid storage containers. If it's not Tupperware or Pampered Chef and you're asking me how much I charge to party my mind is always going to go horizontal fellowship.
The first time it happened I thought it was a misdial. Now it's pretty obvious someone has gotten my phone number out there. Mistake or on purpose it does not matter. Joke's on them, in a week or less my mobile phone is going bye-bye when I jet off to Costa Rica.
Sitting here in my flannel nightgown, graying hair tumbling around my shoulders, wearing my schmexy sweater with the holes in it and fuzzy slippers just laughing. Hooking indeed. Maybe hooking a crochet project or two.
This was a laugh I needed. Today we took a lot of things to the dump, including our oh so comfortable but sprouting stuffing feather stuffed sofa and love seat. I have to get the landscaping done, some more of the furniture moved and clean out the garage after Jim leaves. I'm already pretty tired. I think I'm going to have to hire some help after he leaves. Today was getting so many things into the storage room over the garage. Looks like I'm playing real life Tetris.