I bailed on potty training. Yep.
They are just not ready. We’ll reevaluate at 2.5 and see where we are, but for now, diapers it is. I can’t really think of anything else to say about that, so instead, I’m going to tell you about my phone curse. It’s downright spooky.
It started about a year ago, with a freaky message on my voicemail. It was from a man I don’t know, and he sounded distraught. Someone had died, and he was trying to get in touch with their next of kin, and all he had was my number. It was complicated. I called him back, and was thrilled to be sent to his voicemail, because I thought I could just leave a sympathetic message, relay the info that the person he sought no longer had this number, and that would be that. Not so.
He called back. He was really upset, and wanted to talk about his friend that had died, and wanted help in finding this lost relative who used to have my number. I listened, and said I was sorry, and I was sorry, but I couldn’t really help him. He thanked me, and hung up, and I figured that would be the end of spooky death phonecalls on my number.
Nope. A few weeks ago, the local news station called my house looking for the woman who used to have my number’s next of kin. She died! In a plane crash. The freakin’ wing fell off! What the hell is it with my phone number? I feel like I’m living in the freakin’ Bermuda triangle.
I mean, am I next???