Just a tidbit for anyone considering running from their bills: You never know when your dirty laundry will end up in someone else’s house.
6 p.m. yesterday – phone rings…
“Hello. Is this Ms. Dyskinesia?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Ms. D, this is Horrified-sounding-I’ve-only-been-at-this-job-for-a-week Smith with Ford Motor Credit. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to get a message to your neighbors, Dick & Jane Johnson?”
“Ummm, except that I don’t have any idea who they are….”
“Oh. I’m sorry. It says here that they live at AddressNumberAcrossTheStreet?”
“Oh, so that’s their names, huh? They’re fairly new to the neighborhood. I’m a total hermit, but sure, I have seen their physical forms more than once so I do know they exist. So, what can I do ya for?”
“Well, I need to get a message to them to call me at this number. Would you be willing to deliver that message? I mean, I understand if you wouldn’t be comfortable doing that if you don’t know them.”
“Oh, no problem. I live for nothing more than delivering bad news to total strangers that I’ve seen arguing on their lawn like a couple of psychos. Gimme the number, and I’ll get it right to them!”
And you know why I didn’t? Because if I have to hear you screaming obscenities at each other as you load the car for your vacation (while your 12-year-old daughter is SITTING ON THE STEPS listening to your idiot selves), I’m not doing you any damn favors anytime soon.
Besides, what’s more fun that watching the repo guy come steal your neighbors’ truck in the middle of the night?