Evidently the cell phone gods are having a practical joke party with my phone number. A couple months ago, I got about 20 calls in a week from various staffpeople from a Nissan dealer in Vienna, Virginia, who were hot to sell "Alex" a new car.
This week, I am getting calls from "Grandma." I have traced the number to a rest home in Walhalla. The couple times I have answered, she immediately demands "Who is this?" I say "It's Juliet, you have the wrong number." I've stopped answering the number, now that I recognize it.
Am I a terrible person for not cultivating a beautiful and rewarding phone relationship with this lonely woman who stumbled on my number? I can live with that.
Maybe it's actually myself calling from 40 years in the future. I am coming up on the big 4-0.