I’m in the yard with Bo. It’s in the sixties, but Christmas is supposed to be the seventies. Too hot. I like freezing my butt off on Christmas. I guess it’s my Pennsylvania and New Jersey beginnings.
It’s funny, though, I really don’t feel much connection to either of those places. I was born in Pennsylvania, but never lived there. The hospital just happened to be across the river from our home in New Jersey. I only lived in Jersey till just after my sixth birthday. Then my dad’s employer transferred him to St. Petersburg, Florida.
I guess I’m in another contemplative mood. I really have to find a way to improve my life. I’m especially desirous if improving my way of earning a living and the way I’m living.
I’m inside thinking about other weirdness in my life. The guy who called me on Tuesday thinking my number was a nail shop just called again.
I’m having other phone weirdness. I got a call from a New York number. Again, curious about the percentage of spoofs I’m getting, I called it. It was answered by a recording, spoken in an obvious NYC accent, “ You have reached the number you have called.” It was humorous to me because, back in the answering machine era, I had almost the exact same greeting on my machine. It was, yet again, at a time when I was attracting weird calls. This was before caller ID and spoof accounts. Yeah, I’m as old as dirt.
I just called this NY number and I did leave a message saying that I was just curious to learn if the call I received from her number was a misdial, or if someone was using her number to spoof me. I apologized for the inconvenience.
However, yesterday I did receive a bonafide spoof. I called immediately and was told by the computer voice it was a non-working number.
Well, in typical fashion of late, I’ve been up for hours and haven’t eaten anything except two chocolate covered espresso beans and a square of gingerbread, orange chocolate bar that was on the discontinued shelves at Sprouts. As I walked out of the restroom, it leapt off its shelf and into my hand as I returned to my register. Like the groceries at Publix, the ones at Sprouts are enchanted.
The discontinued stuff at Sprouts is kept mysteriously close to the incense and sage intended for burning rituals. Maybe there’s a connection.