Connect: FAIL

Saturday morning, 5:53am ET.

I'm at work and my phone rings so insanely loud that my co-workers and I jump. The number on the caller ID doesn't ring a bell. Not our area code so I know it's not Grinch, hospital or police department calling about him or the girls. Gravelly voiced and rushed, I answer, "Hello?"

A sweet, child-like, Canadian voice tones: "Can you talk or is Ted there?"

I figure it's someone's who hates her best friend's boyfriend/husband. My husband isn't named Ted. She must have the wrong number. "You have the wrong number." I rasp.

phone closed, back in purse.

Then the lightbulb goes off over my head. That wasn't a wrong number! That was Jen! Freaking Jen and Tonic called me! A blogging rock star called me and I hung up on her. Idiot.

This is what a cold and the graveyard shift does to you, y'all. Watch, learn and be afraid.

Making Valentines

Blah.

Forgive my bloggy absence of late. Everything that comes out of my mouth and keyboard these days seems to have a negative, "poor pitiful me" sound to it and I don't want that. Not anymore, anyway. Not where everyone can see it and roll their eyes at it.

I know I left my happy around here somewhere. I'm looking for it. I may make a new one if it doesn't turn up soon.