One ringy-dingy…

Office phone rings. I answer it.

“Hello, is this Jill P. Smith?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I’m looking for the Jill P. Smith who worked at [other institution] and [other details].”

Wonder to self – does this person think all Jill Smiths are in a club? Do we have a secret handshake? Did I miss a memo? Do we have special powers of knowing one another’s contact details and whereabouts? Must inquire.  “I’m sorry – while I know there are a lot of other Jill Smiths, I have actually never personally met another person with my name.”

“Well, I’m looking for [more unhelpful detail about this other Jill Smith].”

Refrain from going into helpful librarian mode because I really don’t need to be Directory Assistance.  “I’m sorry – I really don’t know what to tell you. I am not her, and I don’t know her, so I don’t know how to contact her.”

“Okay, well I’m looking…” She suddenly seems to realize that she can tell me stuff about Jill P. Smith forever and I’m still not going to know this person. “Okay, thanks so much for your time.”

“Sure. Good luck!”

Overheard at our house, ventriloquist edition

Me (to the microwave, which is emitting a loud hum/buzz): “Stop that, it’s annoying.”

John (in a high, floaty voice): “Okay!”

Overheard at our house, cheesy soul music edition

John: “This may be a reverse-skate song.”

Overheard at our house, 80’s version the eleventyith

Tears for Fears “Shout” is playing.

John: “Whatever happened to the other guy in this band?”

Me: “?”

J: “This is Wham!, right?”

Me: “?  No.”

J: “Oh, yeah. This is Tears for Fears. Still two guys, right? So whatever happened to the other guy?”

Me: “Andrew Ridgeley? Are we still talking about Wham!?  I am fighting hard not to blog this, by the way.”

J: “How long has it been since you blogged?  Do it after dinner.”

Overheard at our house, meatball style

The scene: Cardboard boxes full of flat-pack cabinetry are stacked neatly all around our dining room, ready for assembly and installation.  John sits on a stool amidst the proto-wreckage.

Me: “What are you doing?”

John: “Sitting in the kitchen.”

Me: “Fair enough.”

Overheard at our house, pop music edition

Me: “A band that can do a bombastic cover of a Depeche Mode tune, and then go on to do something with acoustic guitar and whiny male vocalist? SIGN ME UP.”

I was going to write this here, but…

I thought it would suit my professional blog pretty well too.  So “People Want to Help” is over there if you care to read it.

Overheard at Yoga

Me: “I got back together with my treadmill recently.”

D: “Does that mean you broke up with your treadmill at one point?”

Me: “It knows what it did.”

Overheard at our house, pop culture vs. internet edition

John overhears the video below from  the other room. “It sounds like that crazy woman on 30 Rock.”





“You do realize ‘Crazy woman on 30 Rock‘ is redundant, right?”

YouTube Preview Image

(he meant Hazel)

Scenes at our house, early morning edition

The animals are fed, the dog has been walked, and I’m eking out a few minutes on the couch before I have to get ready for work. I’m just about to go upstairs when Milo hops up on top of me.

Me: Milo, you’re going to make me late.

Milo: folds one paw under.

Me: Milo, why do you always time it like this?  I’ve been here for 15 minutes and now you want to cuddle?

Milo: folds another paw under, completing cat-loaf position.

Me: Dammit, stop being so soft and cute at me. You’re going to make me late for work.

Milo: purrs a few bars of “And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going.”

Me: Fine, you smug bastard.