The house phone just rang. Hugh looked at the caller ID and answered it.
He says hello three or four times, looks puzzled and hangs up.
Who was it, I ask.
It was Bob's cell phone, he says, and rattles off a number.
What was that number?
He looks it up on the caller id, and then has the good grace to at least look sheepish.
Because his cell phone, in his own pocket, accidentally called the house number and he didn't even recognize the number on caller id.
Dibs on the first Sunday evening in the loft!
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