Ringgggg, Ringgggg.

So I bet you can guess what happened to me while in the shower. The one time that I didn't take the phone in with me nor put the answer machine on; while all soaped up from top to bottom, you guessed it, the phone rang.

Now ordinarily, I wouldn't have bothered to answer the phone, but it rang about the same time one of my daughters would have normally rang me. And even though, it was not an actual scheduled date, I wasn't absolutely, positive sure it wasn't her.

"Shit...hang, on...I'm comin'!" By the way, why do people scream that they are coming to the phone? I mean, the phone, itself, could care less. And the person on the other end hasn't got a clue what's going on on the other end... do they.

Anyway, dripping wet, with soap from the tip of my head to the bottom of my footsies, I go charging outta the bathroom, down the hall, and into the living room (lounge for my British bloggers) to get to that obnoxious sound that is coming out of that little gadget we call a phone.

Well let me tell you something, dear readers, there is one thing that you DO NOT DO under any circumstances and that is, when you soaking wet with soap and water running down your body, run on a hardwood floor. Why? Because you have absolutely no traction. I damn near killed myself, slip sliding trying to get that flipping phone.

Finally reaching the phone, after damn near breaking my neck; back; and/or both legs, I said,

"Hello?"

"Mrs. £$%&*?"

It was a fucking telemarketer.