Seeing as I haven’t written out the moving saga of last weekend, it seems a little premature to post a postscript. But I wanted to erase this phone message off my voicemail system, and it was irking me beyond all belief that I should delete it without making it public.
This message was sent at — get this — 6:40 in the MORNING, on Tuesday. I happened to be awake, but I figured a person in the GTA phoning at such an hour who wasn’t a close personal friend did not warrant a pickup.
It was George the Mover, calling to ask for one of my air conditioners. The one he asked about last Saturday when they were nearly finished unloading. The one I said was not available to him, even though he said, “They don’t fit your windows, anyway…” and he made it clear he had no intention to pay for it. Obviously, he wasn’t listening when I said they were not available, because he phoned at an uncivilised hour to ask for them AGAIN.