The call is coming from inside the house!

Around noon today I did three loads of laundry, washing all the sheets, towels, and pillowcases that had been used in the last couple of weeks. We don't have a dryer in this house, so laundry is usually dried on the line; in this case, however, I didn't have enough line to dry everything, and on top of that it looked like rain, so I decided to drive to Tannersville, the nearest town with a laundramat, to use the dryers there.

On the drive over I stopped in at my auntie's to see if there was anything I could get her. She was happy to see me, as she'd been trying to call me for a while in order to invite me for lunch. I was on the dial-up most of the morning, and thus did not know that my auntie had made schnitzels for me. I promised to stop in after my laundramat run.

[insert dramatic drying and folding scene here]

I did indeed return for schnitzels. They were delicious, as were the accompanying potatoes, cucumber salad, and raspberries and cream. I was given more schnitzels and potatoes to take home, along with three slices of rye bread. Old people love their bread, dontcha know.

My auntie was so sweet that I figured I should spend less time on the dial-up in case she called.

So what happened this evening? Aunt Racist's alcoholic sister called and wanted to talk to Aunt Racist. The problem is that I have no idea where Aunt Racist is. I think she was supposed to drive down to Florida, but I really didn't know or care; to me she's either "in my house" or "not in my house". I passed along Aunt Racist's cellphone number, and then spent the next twenty minutes trying to get off the phone. It seems Aunt Racist's sister is getting kicked out of her house in two days and has nowhere to go, which makes for delightful conversation. She was plenty drunk. She was incredulous that I'm 30, and then told me that she's 50 but doesn't look it; I thought, "Yeah, after all that booze you probably look 60." She did agree with me that her sister is a lousy person, but that might have been the booze talking.

I finally managed to get off the phone, and one minute later the phone rang. It was Aunt Racist's sister again, who had misdialed and completely forgot that she had just spoken to me for twenty minutes.

After getting off the phone again, I left a ten-minute grace period in case the old gal called again, and then promptly went online and stayed online. I'll risk not getting calls from my auntie (I can always call her) if it means not getting calls from drunk relatives-in-law.

PS - It should be noted that my auntie's (and mom's) schnitzels are made not from veal fillets, but from ground beef. They still call 'em schnitzels, though, and they're better chefs than I, so who am I to argue?