Not long ago, the remote controller for our television went missing. After searching the couch cushions, under the couch, the kitchen counters, the nursery and the dog’s bed (because it never ceases to amaze me what Charlie deems cuddly), I had a better idea. Why keep searching around like an idiot when I could just CALL the remote and follow its ringing? I picked up my phone and stared at the numbers. And I actually thought to myself: “What the hell phone number does the remote have?” …wait for it… wait for it… OH, UH, …RIIIIIIGGGGHHHHT.
Then I called Pnut and told him I might need to go back on my meds.
