I wrote a post a while back about how no good phone calls happen in the wee hours.
The last phone call at 3:00 was worse, but the one last night at 2:00 wasn't great.
We're sleeping (obviously it's 2am.), and Ché had just woken up from a bad dream (yelling No, No, No is the indicator). I had come back to bed after checking on him, and the phone rang. Now, last time the phone rang during the early morning hours it was because my Dad had passed away. I definately expected the worst.
However this is the conversation that followed:
Man: You were supposed to send a girl over and I haven't heard from you.
Me: I think you have the wrong number.
Man: Are you sure?
I hung up the phone at that point. He didn't seem like he believed me that we weren't a whore house. Of course my wonderful imagination made it hard to get back to sleep what with the thinking about police knocking in our door to break up our red light activities, or strange man on the phone coming by to make sure we didn't short him his ho.
Sigh, life is always interesting.