Silly me, to believe telling somebody that they have the wrong number will actually bring an end to communication. Even the second time.
The first time, Wednesday evening, I sent that info just before I turned off the Blackberry. Thursday morning once I turned it on again, the reply waiting for me assured me that "he' (I'm guessing) knew I was coming over. However much I hoped he was holding his breath waiting for me - well, for whomever he thought I was - to show up, he survived long enough to start texting me again this afternoon. I recognized the number.
"I need you now"
Yeah, I'll just bet you do. I can come up with several ways you might mean that, buddy, but would you freak if you knew you were waiting for a card-carrying member of the Medicare set? (Yes, my card arrived, can use it in 35 days.) But I don't feel like explaining all that to a stranger.
"This is still a wrong number. You do get that, right?"
"Thank you. Good luck finding the real number you're looking for."
I'm trying to be polite, heaven knows why. Training, I guess. Mom would be proud. But good, now I can get back to work. But as soon as I think that, the red light blinks again.
"Come on over now."
How dim is this bulb? Come over? Yeah, to where? Nevermind, I'm not budging, even if I knew. It is so-o-o not going to happen. Maybe I need to be more direct.
"What part of wrong number don't you understand? Trying to be polite, but PLEASE GO AWAY."
I waited. Nothing. Flipped back over to the work app, and... blink. blink. blink. Now what?