I don’t answer my home phone unless I know who’s calling – and then it depends on whether I can actually get to the phone, since I’m usually running out the door to grab one of the kids from school or changing a poopy diaper or some other glamorous thing like that.
The other day a call came in with a number I didn’t recognize. I let the machine pick up and listened in. It was a woman confirming an appointment I had for the next afternoon.
So I picked up. Because I didn’t have any appointment scheduled. That I remembered, anyway.
It was some medical group. I asked with whom the appointment was.
“Brenda? Or maybe Lynn,” the woman said.
And then I asked what it was they did at this place.
“We’re a med spa. We do botox, vein removal, skin care..”
“I don’t understand why you’re laughing. I’m just calling to confirm an appointment.”
I couldn’t explain to her why the idea that I could have an appointment at a med spa was so funny. I sat in my messy house with one child engaged in homework hell and the other two bickering over whose spot was whose on the couch. The dishwasher needed to be unloaded and the dirty dishes were already lined up like planes on the runway at LAX. I was downstairs so I could pretend there weren’t two baskets of laundry in my room ready to be put away.
And? I hadn’t had a pedicure since before New Year’s, and when you live in SoCal, you have to constantly apologize for the state of your toes when you’re at Target in flip flops. December was also the last time I had my hair done which explains why I now wear a hat most days. I had just gotten a lip and brow wax, but that was only because I was getting food caught in my ‘stache.
So, yes, the idea that I could sneak away for a lil’ wrinkle removal injection or a laser facial was, frankly hilarious.
To me. I was alone on that, though.
There was a teeny part of me that hoped maybe someone had surprised me with such an appointment. For a brief, joyous moment, I dreamt of a Fairy SpaMother who would swoop me away to the land of soft voices and botulism in the forehead.
Instead, it was just a computer glitch.
I told her I thought it was super creepy that she had my name and unpublished phone number and then she said they’re affiliated with an eye care center that I’d scheduled an appointment with last year. Apparently, they somehow pulled up my name.
I hung up the phone. One kid was still whining about his math homework and the other two were now smacking each other.
Awesome. What else could I do but laugh?