Hey Mr. Verizon Man!

This photo I snagged off the Internet looks like it could be in my own neighborhood. I keep an orange hazard cone near my driveway so people can find my house. Don't American neighborhoods look mostly the same?

Both my telephones are on the fritz!

The New Directions phone is downstairs. I keep it off the hook so I won't hear it ring. Some people call at 3 am wanting to know who the guest speaker is.

That was bad enough, but then my Ruth Deming phone wouldn't work either!

Mr. Verizon is coming out on Monday sometime from 9 am until 5 pm. I'll either be right here in the living room on the computer or I'll be riding my exercise bike upstairs.

A frantic man I'll call Xavier Shottenstein called the ND line.

His area code was 215, same as mine.

I called him from my cellphone.

Hello, I said, is Xavier there please?

Xavier? There's no Xavier here.

Is this 215-333-3333?

No, said the woman. This is the 717 area code. You've reached the Pennsylvania Turnpike.

Amazing, I said. Sorry to have bothered you.

Someone's wires are crossed and they sure aren't mine.

Whenever it's windy, Scott's phone wouldn't work. This went on for a couple of years.

It was very windy thother day so I guess it's my turn.

I spose you're wondering what my next brilliant move is.

Well, I made the chili for tomro's party and now I'm gonna make yogurt for myself. That Chobani Greek yogurt is, like, a couple dollars for one lousy bucket.

It'll be ready at 7 am tomro, a continuation of a 4,000-year-old tradition that began in the Middle East, Here o Israel, the Lord our God is One, Sh'ma Yisrael.

Oh, I didn't know you were Jewish, Ruthie!