Growing Balls…Hopefully Only Figuratively!!!


When I went back to Josh’s room, (my temporary abode) I immediately called back “the other woman.” Her answering machine was on.

Thank goodness, I thought to myself. Because if she would have picked up the phone, I really didn’t know what I would have said to that b*%ch.

I went back to bed attempting to get some rest. Who was I kidding??? Could anyone honestly sleep after experiencing what I just did?

The images kept replaying themselves over and over in my mind. I tossed and turned for hours. All that late-night aerobic activity was wearing me out. In my sleep-deprived state, I began to ponder what the caloric expenditure of restless sleep was and if any scientific studies were done on this. Maybe I stumbled on a new work-out plan. I made a mental note to investigate this further when time permitted. I could really be on to something.

Anyway, at some point, without realizing it, I dozed off.

Jolted by the blaring music which usually reliably got me up on time, I was startled to see the time on the clock. DARN!!! I jumped out of bed, rushed into Ashley’s room, woke her up and told her that I overslept and would have to drive her to school so she wouldn’t be late.

While snarfing down our breakfast, I asked her if she heard the phone ring in the middle of the night. She told me that she didn’t, but informed me that my talking woke her up. Great! Not only did Dick’s main new squeeze have the chutzpah to invade my space, now Ashley was blaming ME for disturbing her sleep. I just can’t catch a break.

Leaving the dishes in the sink, I rushed back upstairs in a dazed stupor to gather my purse and keys. Dick stepped out of the bedroom, looking very well-rested and casually asked me why I was taking Ashley to school. I told him that I was rudely woken up by his friend’s call at 1:00 in the morning and as a result, I wasn’t able to sleep too well the rest of the night. He replied, “You mean the wrong number.” I couldn’t believe how cool and in control this guy was. “No, it was no wrong number unless you mean she called the home phone instead of your cell phone,” I reported, trying to match his level of arrogance.

When am I ever going to learn not to fall prey to his attempts to engage me in conversation. It’s never in my best interest.

After this brief tete a tete, the three of us made our way downstairs. Anxious to get me out of the house, my not-soon-enough-to-be ex practically pushed me out the door and locked it behind me. What was he trying to do?

When I returned home, it became obvious. When I walked in through the door, immediately I ran over to the phone in the family room and checked the caller ID. Just as I suspected, Dick deleted his amore’s information.

What a sleaze ball. So much for the call being a wrong number. If that were true, he would have left the phone alone. It was a good thing I decided to write everything down the night before.

No time like the present to introduce myself to the “good doctor.” My attempt proved futile. Once again greeted by her voice mail, I knew I needed to block my name and number from appearing on her phone so she wouldn’t know it was me calling.

Not remembering how to do it, I decided to do a quick google search on the subject. In less time than it took to write this, I learned that if you dial *67 before the phone number, your personal information won’t show up on the caller ID.

*Reading all those Nancy Drew mystery books when I was a pre-teen was finally paying off. Unfortunately my level of expertise as a sleuth was still at a juvenile level.

Like a tiger stalking its prey, I watched and waited patiently for the ideal time to pounce. I went in for the kill the next evening. It was Saturday night. Ashley was at a party. Dick was having dinner with a friend. I had the house all to myself for the next few hours.

With shaking hands, I dialed *67 and then her number. BINGO. It worked like a charm. She picked up the phone.

“Dr. Corazone,” she calmly announced. “Juanita?” I asked, addressing her by her first name. There was silence at the other end. “Who?” she asked. I couldn’t believe she actually said that. Was she for real? “Isn’t this Juanita Corazone?” I questioned, while suddenly developing a surge of power.

“Who is this?” she queried. “This is Dick *******’s wife,” I firmly responded. “Who?” she repeated. “Your friend, Dick ******, the doctor from Chicago…his wife. Come on Juanita, you know exactly who he is,”  I stated forcefully and unemotionally.

After a pregnant pause, she finally said, “I have nothing to say to you.”

“That’s fine,” I riposted. “There’s something I have to say. You called my home at 1:00 in the morning last Thursday and woke my daughter and me up. Whatever you have to discuss with MY HUSBAND (technically he still is) please call him on his cell phone and not disturb my family.”

To that she replied, ” He called me about a position out here and this is the number that appeared on my caller ID, so I just responded back to this number. There is a time difference between where I live and you do. That is why I called so late. I’m sorry.”

What a stupid, lying, cocky idiot, I thought to myself. I held everything back from saying to her, What position were you two planning to discuss…missionary or doggy???

Actually I wanted to share with Juanita that Dick’s favorite position is standing in front of a mirror admiring himself, but she can discover that on her own.

What kind of a fool did she take me for? (Okay, I probably shouldn’t even go there…after all, she is involved with my husband.)  The reality is that NO professional would call so late at night to discuss business and if they didn’t realize the time, they would have had the decency to respond when the person answering the phone kept repeating Hello…Hello…Hello, instead of not saying a word.

She was one unconvincing liar. No wonder she and Dick hit it off so well. They are like two peas in a pod.

Controlling this conversation, I wrapped things up by saying, “In the future, whatever you need to discuss with MY husband, please do so on his cell phone and not disturb my daughter and me. This is our home. Please respect that.”

She agreed to honor that request and we ended the call.

Strike one up for me!










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