It was bound to happen sometime. My past keeps catching up with me. Last week it was the Kurt Russell crush. Last night all those prank phone calls my friend and I made when we were kids came rushing back. The reason? At midnight, we got a prank call.
I was happily minding my own business, having a nice little dream when the phone screamed through the night air. My hand groped along the stand knocking over the lamp, the books, the chocolate—er, uh, the lamp and books. I finally found the phone, answered it and the little girl on the other end said something stupid.
For this I wiped out the lamp?
I hung up.
Before I could get too smug about it all, my past zipped into view. The midnight calls to unsuspecting people, telling them their refrigerator was running, they’d better go catch it.
Yes, I have a past I’m not proud of.
But I don’t for a second believe I’m alone in this. Girls will be girls. We giggle, eat chocolate, giggle, and, well, make phone calls.
It suddenly occurs to me I’m sharing far too much on this blog.