On an ordinary Sunday, this wouldn't throw too big a wrench in the works, but today happened to not be an ordinary Sunday. Chris and I were both scheduled to teach, and since he was going to be teaching adults and I was going to be teaching 4 & 5 year olds, it was pretty obvious which lesson was going to be easier for a last-minute substitute to put together. (The ease of convincing a last-minute substitute to teach 4 & 5 year olds is something entirely different, by the way.)
So I started down the list of willing substitutes and promptly discovered that there aren't a lot of people who answer their phone at 8:00 on a Sunday morning. After hanging up on several voicemails and answering machines, I finally got through to someone who didn't already have a class to teach.
Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief and putting away the phone list, the phone rang.
Me: "Hello?"Somehow we finally got off the phone.
Caller: "Did someone just call my house?"
Me: "Who is this?"
Caller: "Who is this?"
Me: "This is Allison Ebert."
Caller: "Did you call my house?"
Me: "I've been making a lot of phone calls this morning, so I may have. Who is this?"
Caller: "Did you call me?"
Me: "I'm sorry, I really have no idea. I don't have Caller ID, so unless you tell me who you are, I can't tell you if I called you or not."
Caller: "Well, I'll give you a phone number. 555-5555. Did you call me?"
Me: "Okay, that doesn't help. I didn't memorize all the numbers I called. If you could tell me who you are, I'll be happy to tell you if I tried calling you or not."
Caller: "I'm not telling you my name."
Without her ever telling me her name.
As much as I'd like to apologize for giving this anonymous paranoid phone police lady a complex on what might have otherwise been a very pleasant Sunday morning, I'm too entertained by the bloggability of our conversation.