“How are you, darling?” she asked.
“Oh, mother,” the woman wailed, “the baby won’t eat, the washing machine broke, I sprained my ankle, the house is a mess, and I’m hosting dinner tonight!”
The mother swooped in. “Sit down, relax! I’ll do your shopping, clean the house, cook dinner, feed the baby, and call a repairman. I’ll even tell George to help!”
“George?”
“Your husband! …Wait, is this 223-1374? No, 223-1375?”
“Oh, wrong number,” the woman said.
A pause. Then: “Does this mean you’re not coming over?”
