I Am the Law!

(OK, before you begin reading this post, you must read the above title out loud, pronouncing it with a Sylvester Stallone/Judge Dredd accent. Done? Read on.)

Ah, the joys of telephone numbers. I was just quietly feeding J-man (as quiet as twin two-year-olds can be when fighting over a Nemo toy) when the phone rang. The caller ID listed the number as USA Nails. Hmmmm, why is a nail place calling me? Did Ty-man schedule a surprise manicure for me? Awwwww, how sweet.

Yeah, whateva.

Think really thick, practically unintelligible Chinese accent.

"Ah, yes, this USA Nail on highway 9-2. I am looking back of store, where man is. Water coming out everywhere."

W.T.F.?

Oh, yeah, right. We are so very lucky to have a phone number that is one digit off from the local police department's number. Joy.

"I'm sorry. I think you need the police department. This is a private residence."

As I'm hanging up, I hear, "Oh. OK. Water is..."

Click.

No manicure for me, but the poor confused Chinese lady probably has a flooded manicure table.