Ever had one of those days when all you want to do is take a shower and the phone never stops ringing? Well, today was one of those crazy, crazy days. First, the alarm company kept calling to tell me that the alarm was going off.

"But I'm standing right there," I say. "Nothing is happening, no shrieking, no beep, beep, beep, nothing!

They aren't convinced. "Check the panel."

I do, poking every button. The darn thing isn't even activated, but the person on the other line isn't convinced and they start talking to me through the alarm box.

Holy, Toledo, I didn't know it could do that! My heart almost skips a beat. Do I answer back? I feel really stupid talking to a box, but what the hay, no one's around to see my bizarre behavior. I'm all alone. Or am I? Should I be worried? Has someone broken into my house?

"Hello?" I tentatively say.

"What took you so long?" the person barks back. "Are you having a heart attack? Are you on the floor and can't get up?"

"No, I'm fine," I reassure the person.

"Then why are you pushing the panic button."

Once again, I try to explain, that I'm not doing anything, that the alarm box isn't doing anything. Nothing is happening!

They sound a little disgruntled, but eventually hang up. I head for the bathroom again. But the darn alarm company thwarts me again. This time, I'm not only talking to them over the alarm box, but over the phone as well.

This is crazy. Why does my house keep calling the alarm company?

So now, they have me running all around the house, in a towel mind you, checking out the phones. Nothing. And just to be sure that I am alone, I check every nook and cranny. Everything looks to be perfectly normal.

Finally, one of the techies ask me if my remote is close by.

Again, running around in nothing but a towel, I'm on the hunt for the remote. Finding it in the jewelry box, the panic button squished between two watches, I push the off button. My bad.

"Did it go off?" I sheepishly ask.

Thank goodness they respond in the affirmative.

Phew. All's right with the world. The mystery of the secret alarm is finally solved.

I step towards the shower. You see, I haven't learned my lesson yet, that the fates are against me.

The phone rings. It's my real estate agent, who has been trying to get hold of my because my daughter has called her because she can't get hold of me. Gee, I wonder why.

So, three phone calls later, reassuring everybody that I'm fine, I finally step to the shower door. I'm freezing by now, with not but a towel around me, granted it's a thick towel, but just a towel all the same. When, wouldn't you know it... yes, you got it, the phone starts to ring. My husband.

"So, you are home," he says. "People have been calling me all day because they can't get hold of you."

If he only knew. Well, that problem all worked out, I take a deep breath and just think about heading for the shower.

Ring!

I'm just trying to take a shower, here, folks!

This time I can ignore it, thankfully. The caller id says it's just the drug store letting me know my prescription is ready. I hesitantly shuffle forward. Dare I venture into the bathroom? Yes! I'm covered in dust. And, ha-a-choo-oo, I'm allergic to dust. I have to get this stuff out of my hair, let alone thaw my poor freezing body. So, I try again. Need I say tentatively?

I stick my big toe just inside the door of the bathroom.

RING!

Seriously?

I hurry to the phone, all out of breath. It's the bank just letting me know that they received the papers I sent and everything is a, okay. Really?

This time, I run, don't walk, to the bathroom and dive into the shower and grab the shampoo.

Suds in the eyes and dripping down my face into my ears, wouldn't you know it? I hear, though muddled in the distance, yes, once again, the phone is ringing. I rinse my hair, in record time I might add, grab the same pathetic towel, and slippy-slide to the phone, barely able to see the darn thing. It's a recorded message. A political announcement.

That's it! No more dashing from the shower to the phone. Five minutes people! That's all I need! Just five minutes.

So, here I am, finally. Squeaky clean, warmed from the hotter than normal shower, all put together, hair's curled and combed, and the phone stops ringing. Wouldn't you know it. *SIGH*