Reaching the desk, I see the number is local, but not one of my husband's contacts, nor is it one I know. I don't answer. But the dogs are up, and the cat - so I let them out. In the minute it takes to let all the animals out, the phone buzzes with 2 new messages. Hmm - could it be a friend of Oldest's texting to indicate a problem? Lots of dire scenarios flit through my head forcing me to investigate further. As I lift the impromptu alarm clock, it buzzes yet again.
So I did what anybody would do - I opened the messages.
Three texts decried the receiver as a no-good friend and a man-stealer to boot. Of course, these were delivered in misspelled drunken text, but not lacking feeling for all of that. They were too good not to share and I was awake anyway - chasing the escaped kitten around the backyard is not conducive to holding on to sleep, so I woke the Mr. Misery loves company - right?
After reading them, he responded in typical Mr fashion - letting her know it was the wrong number but that she needed to dump that guy... He's nothing if not chivalrous. She sent 3 more texts, apologizing and pronouncing her misery, which he accepted and began to respond to respectively before deciding he didn't need to counsel the world before dawn even glimmered on the horizon.
I feel for her, truly I do - 9 years is a long time to waste on a loser who cheats with your friend - but interrupted sleep for a stranger's drama is not a fun way to start my weekend.