Craps. I just accidentally deleted a phone message
My antique answering machine messages are so garbled I sometimes have to listen to them repeatedly to decipher the messages.
It was an unexpected phone call, meaning it wasn't about work and it wasn't a telemarketer. I *think* it was a "blast from the past," but I didn't recognize the voice or even begin to hear the name. A man's voice who saw on the internet that I have horses and just wanted to give me a hug. 
And to call him if I felt like it. Area code 507, which I had to look up to see it's in Minnesota.
I don't think I know anybody in Minnesota, but then when I worked at Digital Equipment, which is where the only people I'd care to hear from again were from, and there were people from all over the world. And when DEC went down, a lot of them moved around or back home, which could have been Minnesota.
So anyway, I meant to hit replay, but in my tired, Sunday-morning stupor, I pressed the delete button instead. Which rarely works the first time I press it, unless I hold it down for a looooong time, and has never worked before unless a message was playing at the time.
But it chose this Sunday and this message to work, and now the message is gone forever. It probably was somebody I had a crush on and would be thrilled to hear from. He's probably rich now and handsomer than ever. And he probably is straight and a horse lover, which is extremely rare here in the US, where most horsemen are gay. I probably could have retired to a life of leisure, caring for my horses with help and somebody to call an ambulance if Dahli dumps me on my head again. He probably had a secret crush on me and was the anonymous provider of the ginormous box of chocolates left for me with the security desk back when I worked in DEC's storage division.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. Why me, DAWG?!?! WHYYYYYYYY MEEEEEEEEEEE?!??!!??!!!!! 
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He could be old, broke and toothless and thinks because you have horses you are the answer to his financial woes! 
I can sympathize with your phone messaging woes....My phone releases my messages only when it deems fit. Most of the time they are the messages I would much prefer to have never heard!
immediate dial back.
Info. I need the goods on this guy before I raise his hopes. Or the dirt before I encourage a potential stalker....
If he is worth his weight...he'll call again! 
Back when my whole life was in transition, I called a couple old friends to see what they were up to and rehash the good ol' days.
My childhood BFF -- we'd fallen out of touch a couple decades ago -- she married to a felon (her 3rd marriage), owns a bunch of rifles for him because he's not allowed to, is bipolar, and totally psycho. Luckily she is also 2/3's of the way across the country so it was easy to fall out of touch again. 
And I emailed my college roommate from Paris. Her rabid anti-Americanism was charming back then; now it was just plain rabid. It didn't matter how much I apologized for W, Americans were stupid, ugly and fat. Funny thing is, I remember her being a little on the plump side back in the days, but apparently American fat is gross whereas French fat is "different" somehow. Anyway, it was easy to fall out of touch with here again what with the Atlantic and all between us... 
Besides, the sun is trying to come out at last, so maybe I'll just walk the doggies instead.
I'm not homeless...
I'm planning to switch to satellite internet and a tracfone as soon as I have the time, energy and a couple extra dollars to put into getting caught up with this millenium.
If he's handsome, rich and available, then he knows there's something seriously wrong with him and that only a saint would give him the time of day. He probably spent weeks working up the courage, called me on a Saturday afternoon figuring I wouldn't actually be available to pick up the phone, and is now hiding under his blankets wondering what in the world made him think I might call him back.
It is only creepy stalkers or desperate, broke people who make 'blast from the past' calls again. And again. And again. Oh, that and some total, long-forgotten stranger from Class O'71 that was trying to verify my address and phone information to send me an invite to a reunion I had no intention of every attending...
You must have one of those new-fangled answering machines that displays the number. Mine just yells it out at me when the call is coming in. 
You throw out whatever crazy idea pops into your head, knowing that only one or two ideas at best may work. It's all good...
that always works out so well ...
for the next time I'm feeling suicidal!
Damn...clouds back out, this time with a howling wind. Doggie walk postponed again...
A very verbose DEC command line question like you are entering a show status on a LUN <CR>
You could also google the number and see if it is just a telemarketer.
Oh. My. Dawg.
When I was standing by my phone this morning, totally befuddled by what I'd just heard, a name popped into my head but I was like, No, that person is NYC born, bred, always. Then another name popped up and I was like, hmmm...thought he was the only liberal new-ager in Texas.
Oh. My. Dawg. Apparently my unconscious self knew *exactly* what it was doing when I "accidentally" pressed delete instead of repeat. THERE REALLY ARE NO ACCIDENTS!!!!!
It was the first name that popped into my head. Not calling back. Not now. Not ever. AAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!
Dated him in college. Fucked up 7 years of my life over him. Concert pianist. From family of musicians. Total and complete jerk. Looked back and could only say what the fuck were you thinking? (And looking back from a few decades, I now know what I was thinking. In hindsight, with 20/20 vision, was still trying desperately to please my psycho, abusive mommie dearest )
Ultimately a failed concert pianist. Googled him out of curiosity many years ago and discovered he'd gotten into selling stock and had an SEC arrest or whatever they do for selling illegally in a state where you're not licensed.
He now teaches piano lessons somewhere in Minnesota. Meaning, he's broke, desperate and looking for a sugar mamma. Fuck you, loserboy. Go away and never, ever, ever come back.
That settles it. When I get my tracfone, as annoying as it will be, I am NOT keeping my phone number. EEEEEWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!
circumspect approach to this call!
