Caller Seven

It was that time again–time to get my teeth cleaned, and I found myself on the interstate driving toward my dentist’s office in Franklin. I was unfortunate enough to have an appointment at an inconvenient time in the early afternoon; so I had to leave work early in order to make it. It had been a very hectic day and it was borderline as to whether or not I would be able to even make the appointment. Keep in mind that I work in Bowling Green, twenty miles away from my hometown of Franklin.

So as I was fighting the traffic that routinely plagues my route, I found myself listening to our local Christian radio station. I was in a sort of daze that often accompanies my interstate driving when I caught on that the DJ was announcing another wonderful little prize available "on your workday twenties" (2:20 p.m.). Instead of some boring CD like they often offer, they were offering a gift certificate to a scrapbooking store...just down my alley! Caller Seven was to be the lucky winner. I madly fumbled around trying to locate my cell phone; I finally found it in my lap.

Dialing the phone number from memory (I’ve heard it quite often), I was pleased to hear a ring on the other end instead of a busy signal as is often the case. Because of my noisy car and because my cell phone really is too tiny and because the reception wasn’t the best at that particular spot on the interstate, I didn’t hear the greeting on the other end too well, and when he didn’t say anything else past the greeting, I said brightly--and extra loudly so as to be heard–"Well... What caller am I??" There was a pregnant pause. Then, "This isn’t a radio station–this is Fruit of the Loom."

Dear Lord, please save me from myself (again).

And now tonight I’ve sewn my skirt on upside down. I cannot even bear to think about taking a seam ripper to it–there are pockets in it already and everything. It matters not that I’ve preached to Jolene a thousand times that every time it is necessary to pick up a seam ripper, one should take a moment to look at it and then think of it as a reminder that God loves you.

I can’t do it. I’m too depressed.