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I got a message from my mother saying, "It's almost 8 and your father's not home yet, so I was just wondering if everything's okay or if something happened with his flight or what, so if you could call me back when you get this."
I panicked, because my dad left here at 4pm, so he should have been there by then. He must have had a car accident on his way home. That's the only thing I could think of that would make him so inexplicably late.
So I call my parents' house and the phone rings and rings and I'm thinking, "Ohmygod, no one's home because they're all at the hospital!" and I've worked myself up into a really good lather, when finally my mother answers the phone without even saying hello first -- she could tell it was me by the long distance ring and the lateness of the hour-- instead, the first thing she says is "So, he was at the golf course."
"He went golfing?! He went straight to the golf course without even going home?"
"Yeah. And the sad thing is that I was thinking today, "Oh, maybe when I get home from work, he will be there," and I was kind of excited, because he's been away for two weeks, you know. Then I got home and there was no one there and I was a little worried. But by the time he got home it was like 9pm and it was just like any other day; I just didn't care anymore."
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"The mind of the thoroughly well informed [person] is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-a-brac shop, all monsters and dust, and everything priced above its proper value."
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