Mrs. Foster has returned to us. I had wondered if she was dead, but no, she has a few things yet to teach us before departing the Earth. In this case we would have remained embarassingly ignorant of the fact that Saturday last was Daylight Savings, if not for the saving grace of Mrs. Foster's phone call.
For those needing a reminder, Mrs. Foster is the elderly lady who leaves random messages on our voice mail, apparently believing we are the Front Desk at the Home she Quite Obviously Lives In. Fortune has never granted me the privilege of intercepting a live call from Mrs. Foster - we are privy to her voice messages only.
Here she is on Saturday, warning us to change our clocks an hour back:
Mrs. Foster versus The Microwave.
P.S. Rachelle and I watched The Shining Hallowe'en night, and as you may recall, the very haunted bad bad room at the Overlook is 237. Coincidence? WooooOOOooooooooo....
P.P.S. Mrs. Foster clearly states "Room 227" in the earlier recorded message. Which is just down the hall from the Room of Very Naked Scary Corpse Ladies, and is frankly Close Enough. Meep.
Poor Mrs. Foster. Have you ever tried *69ing her number?
Mrs. Foster: "Hello?"
You: "Hello Mrs. Foster. We'll be right up to take care of that microwave for you."
Mrs. Foster: "Oh, thank you dear."
You: "Heh, heh, heh."
It's that thick porridge they keep feeding her.