AIN'T NO F*&%&#G THELMA HERE!

It's that time of year again when all the bizarre charities call.  You know the ones I mean:  Save the Children with Dimpled Cheeks Fund, Money for Missing Dryer Socks Foundation, and The Secret Order of Belly Button Lint.

I will admit, though, that I like to answer political surveys.  It's one of my favorite pastimes fucking with people's heads.  (What is the biggest problem facing America today?  SPAM!  We need more Spam in case of an apocalypse!)  So, sometimes I like to answer the phone, but, then when I find out it's a money-grubber trying to get cash out of my pocket for the Sewer Workers Lunchtime Hoedown, I act all indignant.

Tonight I am in the basement, futzing with the laundry, moving the wet washed stuff to the dryer and putting the new stuff into the washer and transferring the dried stuff to the laundry basket.  All of a sudden, the phone rings.  I fly around and rush to answer it in case it's one of my kids or a political activist.

I think I might have mentioned, or perhaps I did not, that I am eventually going to rearrange the junk in my basement.  Anyhow, when I whip myself around to head up the cellar stairs to answer the phone, I forget about the folded-up treadmill and whack my hand on it so hard that I feel and hear my wrist snap.

Oh.  Shit.

I very carefully move my wrist while taking the stairs two at a time, all the while swearing my bloody head off.  I see the caller ID as some Somerville number I don't know.  Here's how the conversation goes.

ME: (picking up phone receiver) WHAAAAAAT!!!!  (Dead air)  (sighing, then sharply) What do you WAAAAAANT?!?!

SHE:  Um, is Uhn-DRAY-yuh there?

At this point, I can honestly feel the blood boiling in my head.  My wrist hurts a bit, my hand is unsmooshing itself, and there isn't any Uhndrayyuh here.  I take a deep breath and reply in my best Aresnio Hall Amazon Women on the Moon impersonation ...

ME:  THEY AIN'T NO FUCKING THELMA HERE!

If you've never seen the first four minutes of Amazon Women on the Moon, you simply must watch it.  Here's a link (that won't link so you'll have to copy and paste into a new window).  Short of the bookcase, this is exactly what happened to me this afternoon.  I swear it.  I would only exaggerate a teeny bit.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHSoN8t6x3M

I am pleased to report that my wrist is fine, my hand only hurts a little, and that bitch from Somerville, whomever she may be, has not called me back, and yay for it because I have more laundry to finish, anyway.