Phone Call from Mom

9:06 pm.  Phone rings.  I am sitting on the bed, wondering when the allergy medication is going to kick in and un-stuff my head.  Caller ID shows the call is from one of my mother's neighbors.  Automatic knot in stomach.  It's way past my mother's bed time, she usually rolls up the sidewalk and battens down the hatches early.

Me:  Hello?

Caller:  Steve?

Me:  No, Mommy, it's me, I'm still a little stuffy.

Mom:  Can you look up a phone number for a shuttle service from BWI airport for Joy?

Me (internal monologue): Hello to you, too.

Me:  Sure, let me pick up my laptop.

Mom  (aside to her friends, not quite a stage whisper):  See, I told you, she's always on that damn computer.

Me:  I'm looking, and I can hear you. . . .

Anyway, one quick jaunt through Google and I found Super Shuttle and the phone number for her.  Problem solved, thank you, damn computer.

I'm still waiting for the allergy medication to kick in AND also waiting to get by the one or two years of my life back from the phone call. 

(Mom was hanging with her peeps after going out to a performance of the Port Tobacco Players. )