Spaghetti sauce was burning, pasta was turning to soft mush, and a toddler was proudly showing off a brand-new mustache drawn with thick black permanent marker.
The phone rang.
There was a pause when I said hello. Was it my husband, just out the door to catch a plane? Did someone else have a desperate problem? I wasn’t super woman, but I sure could give it a try.
Then the spiel began. I don’t remember now if it was storm windows or gutters or life insurance. What I do remember is that the telemarketer garbled the name of their company. He or she was bored. Buying their whatever would make their day.
The toddler was tugging on my leg, the pasta was boiling over. I wasn’t super woman and I wasn’t going to make anyone’s day.
“I’m having a personal emergency!” I blurted.
There was a gasp and the caller asked if there was anything that they could do to help.
“Never call this number again!” I hung up.
Dinner was saved, the marker ultimately wore off, and I had a new secret weapon to fend off unwanted advances.