So, before I left to go to St. Mary's, I turned on my cell phone and put it into my pants pocket. I didn't think about the phone until I got home* and pushed the button to take it off standby.
*Except for the brief moment when I wondered if I should send a text to Foursquare. But, then, I realized I don't want to be mayor of a cemetery.
"1 new voicemail," it read.
'Odd,' I thought. Because the phone was on the whole time and I always keep it on vibrate. And vibrate it does, often to the point where I'll jolt up in alarm. It's hard to miss a call.
'Must be a telemarketer,' I thought as I called the voicemail number.
The message was short, under 10 seconds. What sounded like an older Caucasian man spoke in the background (i.e. Not as if he were holding the phone and speaking into it), "I came home" and the message cut off.
Probably just a mechanical issue and somebody got the wrong number. But the "I came home" monologue was odd considering where I had just been.