Everyone in my family knows not to call me. I rarely pick up the phone, and I never listen to voicemails. In fact, my voicemail box is currently full. Text messages and emails are definitely the best way to reach me. Unless it’s an emergency. And everyone knows that emergencies only occur late at night and early in the morning.
So when I got out of the shower this morning and saw that I had a missed call and voicemail from my parents’ house, I immediately feared the worst. “Please don’t let it be another death,” I thought to myself, because God knows we’ve had enough of those in the past few years. “Mom’s stomach was upset last night,” I worried. “She might be in the hospital.” Or, “maybe Dad actually went into some kind of Cheez-It induced coma.” Whyyyyyyyy were they calling me so early? It doesn’t help that Blackberries notify you in 18 different ways that you have a missed call. It’s very alarming. I gathered all my strength and dialed them back. Mom answered and immediately started talking:
NoMad Blogger 