When we moved in with my parents, we brought with us a cable package that included phone,which we were contractually obligated to pay for. In the interest of saving money, Mom and Dad dropped the landline they'd kept for 27 years.
Monday night, we had just climbed into our pajamas and gathered in the living room when the doorbell buzzed. (It doesn't ring; rather, it emits the obnoxious bray of metal pieces rubbing together.) Anyway. Someone was at the door.
It was our town librarian.
"I tried to call," she whispered sadly.
"Ohhh," my mom said, as though that explained why the librarian was stopping by at 8PM. "Yes, we changed our phone number when the kids moved in." She motioned to indicate that we were indeed living there, and Mrs. H stepped into the living room a bit. I waved self-consciously, feeling extremely pink and fuzzy in my pink, fuzzy pajamas.
"Oh, okay. Well. I just wanted to let you know I saved the new Jodi Picoult book for you. You requested it. And it just came in. Normally, I would call you..."
"Thanks." said Mom. Politely.
There was a promise of supplying the new number and Mrs. H walked back to her car.
"I bet she thinks you guys moved." I said to Mom, after I heard the car start up. "Maybe there's a rumor going around town."
She looked at me, shocked. "MOVED? But we have the big green shamrock sign in front with our name on it!"
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