I called Dawn, and she and I giggled together, and she told me, "Thank God for Darkside," and she made me promise to tell him that she'd said that.
There was a call from Problem Child. He called and asked if so-and-so was there. "Who?" He repeated the name. "I think you've got a wrong number." The wrong, of course, was me handing out the number in the first place. He got the machine when he tried the number thirty seconds later. I know his voice. I spent untold hours monitoring his calls at the workplace, and he didn't even have to say his name for me to know who he was. There's another specific ID on the caller ID to screen for, now...
The Problem Child called again while I was in the shower; Sis got the phone and was equally confused as to who he was looking for, as said person clearly didn't exist at said number.
Then V called, and she had perhaps a computer client to push my way (she thinks I should fix people's computers) because she ran into the sweetest lesbian couple and they needed a reliable computer person to take a gander at their computer, preferably a female computer person, and did she know anyone? Of course she did. V knows everyone. I was skeptical of my own computer know-how, because I still don't feel like I'm that much of a serious geek, but V thinks otherwise. I figured it out myself later, in an e-mail to Mama: I still don't think of myself as being particularly technical, but the truth of the matter is, I don't appear particularly technical to myself because I surround myself with technical people, and if someone isn't technical enough, then I educate them to a point where I can stand to be around them. We'll be working out the dance with the car later.
As if that were not enough,
So, glee. A good evening. Now, for some sleep...