Overheard

If you were a fly on the wall of our bedroom this morning at about 2, this is what you would have heard:

A delicate, breezy, lady-like snore. (That is me.)

A loud, obnoxious, punch-you-in-the-side snore. (That is Daniel.)

All of a sudden, his cell phone rings. Blares. At TWO FREAKIN' A. M.

But it isn't just any ring:

Wanna be a BALLer!
Shot caller!
Twenty-inch blades
On the Impala...

At the loudest possible volume.

I elbowed Daniel and said, "Gitchafone!" with my face buried in my pillow.

He lumbered out of bed and over to the dresser, where his phone was flashing lights, blasting tunes, and registering on the Richtor scale with its vibrations.

"H'lo?"

(silence)

"Uh, no. S'okay. W'sup?"

(silence)

"I dunno. I don't think we have any heroin."

(Again, in case you didn't read it right the first time, he said: "I DON'T THINK WE HAVE ANY HEROIN.")

(silence)

"Yeah. I'll have to see if I can get some tomorrow."

(silence)

"I'll get back with you."

(silence)

"A'ight. Later."

That is disturbing on so many levels. Most importantly, it is disturbing that my slumber got interrupted. Oh, yeah, and the middle-of-the-night drug deal is a little concerning as well.


****** Edit: Apparently, I wasn't clear enough on the situation in our home. Daniel works on a Street Crimes Unit for our local police department. They do narcotics investigations, among other things. The caller was a co-worker who was inquiring about a test kit for heroin, since he had gotten some drugs off of someone. But, apparently, we don't have any heroin (test kits) and Daniel will have to find some (heroin test kits) at a later date. In any other home, that conversation would have been unsettling, but here, it is just part of life.