I have amazing phone conversations.

Don’t even try to say, “Me too.”  Because yours are nowhere near as fun or important as mine.  Probably. 

Disclaimer: I would have told you sooner, but I had no idea I was this cool until a friend over heard me.  She scrunched up her face in a way that would make most people believe she was horrified.  Fortunately, I recognized her expression as being one of complete amazement and respect.

Me:        Dad. What are you doing?

Dad:       I actually really busy getting the magazine ready; what’s up?

Me:        I have been looking EVERYWHERE for the DVD of Downton Abbey Season 3.  I was totally   willing to order it from the UK and pay upwards of $100.  Do you know what happened?

Dad:       You didn’t find it because it doesn’t exist?

Me:        Not until January of 2013.  And that’s when the show airs, not the DVD.

Dad:       How did you not know this?  And, you thought $100 was a fair price to pay for something that doesn’t actually exist?

Me:        I said upwards…

Dad:       What about a unicorn?  How much for that?

Me:        I don’t want a unicorn.  Pause.  Who doesn’t want a unicorn?  Actually, probably $250 or better.  I’m assuming it has a rainbow horn, obviously.

Dad:       Obviously.

Me:        I think I lost my daughter.  In Target. I gotta go.

Daughter found.  Crisis averted. That same night, I had another conversation.

Me:        We had another ant invasion.  They were everywhere.

Husband:      Did you spray---

Me:        I’m trying to tell you.  It was like the apocalypse.  They were everywhere.  Kitchen, bathroom, literally everywhere, and so yes, I sprayed.  Everything.  But now our downstairs isn’t suitable for humans.  We actually left the house for a while, but it is still pretty awful.

Husband:     Why did you spray so much?

Me:        It was a DAMN APOCALYPSE.  What should I have done?   (I don’t wait for a response; clearly he doesn’t get how terrifying the experience was.  Think Troy, only without a horse. Or soldiers.)

Me:        But, I know why.

Husband:     ok…

Me:        There is a secret, lost colony of ants living under the roof.  Since the roof is being replaced, they have to find somewhere else to live.  They’re all pissed because this has been their home since 1995, or whenever.  Their baby ants have grown up here.  So, they storm our house; much like Normandy.   I’m worried about what happens when we replace the vinyl.

Husband:     Um. Actually. I. Have. To Go.   Work stuff…

Whateves.  He really should have thanked me—he had no idea where they were coming from. 

And at least when the vinyl comes off, we will be prepared for Battle of the Silverfish.