Grumpified Nomad

There I am, sound asleep, when I am rather rudely jolted awake by a ringing phone at around 6:45 am. Since I've been receiving an inordinate number of hang-up calls in recent weeks, I am disinclined to move my bod from the warm, comfy embrace of the covers. So, the answering machine kicks in, does it's little greeting, and beeps. From my room, I can barely hear the caller . . . not enough to understand what they're saying, but it's audible. And it's then that my mind says "Shit, that sounds like my dad." Now, if my dad's calling at 6:45 am it's got to be for something important. I'm talking emergency here. All kinds of bad scenarios start popping into my head. Did something happen to mom? To my uncle? To my dog (who's staying with my folks while I have new sod laid in the yard)? To the family dog (who was recently diagnosed with cancer)? To their house? Understandably, at this point, I'm moving out of bed pretty fast, and get to the kitchen just after the caller hangs up. So, I hit the answering machine (twice, actually--I missed the button the first time, since I'm not terribly coordinated at 6:45 am, as further evidenced by the "toe vs. door frame" incident which occurred leaving my room) and listen to the message. And wouldn't you know it . . . it was some jerk off telemarketer! Some dingleberried smeghead from American Intercontinental University wanting to sell me their on-line degree program. Yeah, like I'm really going to pay thousands of dollars to a "university" that wakes me up from a sound sleep to give me a sales pitch at six-fricking-forty-five in the morning! Really shows what kind of quality institution they run. So yeah, my grumpiness levels are going to be pretty darn high today.