Pizza was on the menu last night. The day had been fun and crazy and dinner hadn’t happened. I picked up the phone in the kitchen and glanced at the fridge and dialed the phone number. On the second ring a thrill of horror shot down my spine as I realized I had looked at the apple magnet rather than the white rectangle magnet and had dialed my children’s pediatrician’s office. But of course I wasn’t sure. By the third ring I was looking at the clock. A sigh escaped me when I saw it was 5:01 and after hours (by one minute). On the fourth ring the message kicked in.
I hung up, dialed the right number and ordered my pizza. Then midst giggles I told Paul that I had almost tried to order a pizza from our pediatrician. Wouldn’t that have been a hoot if it had been just a few minutes earlier?
“Hello, Dr. Whittaker’s office.”
“Yes, What specials do have for this evening?”
I must say, even though it would have been hillarious had I gotten through to the Dr.’s office, I sure am glad they had closed already. heh 🙂