Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I am quite sure.

The phone just rang now and I picked it up, answering with my usual, mellifluous baritone, “This is Terry Oglesby.” In the background, it sounded like someone was standing in the outdoors, and I thought it first might be Miss Reba. No answer back. “Hello?” I jiggered with the handset cord, because it has been coming loose and causing the sound to cut out. “Hello? This is Terry Oglesby.” A bit louder this time.

I heard a woman’s voice, “Hello? Who?”

Well, obviously, it wasn’t Reba--probably just your regular old citizen. “Yes, this is Terry Oglesby.” Something muffled--sounded like the phone was dropped or something. “I’m sorry ma’am, I couldn’t understand you.”

“I said, ‘Is this Ann and Frank’s place?’”

“Oh, no ma’am, you have the wrong number.” Happens a lot, you know. But then the kicker--

“Well, are you SURE?!”

Unless Ann and Frank have purchased City Hall and set up light housekeeping, I am certain beyond all reasonable doubt. I chuckled at her inability to grasp the obvious, and asked her what number she was trying to dial. There was the slightest edge of impatience in her voice, “Okay--it’s area code two-oh-four, two-five--”

“Ma’am? Ma’am! Ma’am, that’s the problem--this is area code 205, not 204. You’re calling Alabama.”

She still seemed to think I was wrong, “Hmph--that’s very odd, because that’s the number on the, the, here--well, goodbye.”

Indeed so.

Anyway, to Ann and Frank up in Manitoba, good day, eh.

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