Sweet Dreams

Following on from the call where the caller was convinced that I was THE Miranda Kerr,  I got another odd phone call the other day.

Me: Hello, Michelle Speaking

Caller: Ah Hi there I’m soandso calling from the Auckland City Hospital

My heart sinks, who do I know that is injured? Or do I have to return?

Caller: I’m actually a midwife here in our maternity ward and I’m just ringing to say your partner is going into labour.

Me: Uh

Me: Um Sorry who are you trying to reach?

Caller: Michelle?

Me: I’m sorry I have no idea what you are on about, you’ve actually come through to a commercial phone line?

Caller: So this isn’t Michelle?

Me: Yeah it is, but you have definitely got the wrong Michelle

Caller: Oh Fuck. 

And she then proceeds to then hang up.

Yeah.

I think one of these days I’m going to start a new blog and it’s going to be called crazy shit that happens while out running.
Like an adventure travel diary, but only really in a 20km radius.

So I was out running this morning, and a seagull decides to chuck - (alright I know it doesn’t have hands) drop a dead bird caracas at my head. I didnt see it coming, but it landed at my feet and I was sprayed with blood and bird diseases. The seagull then proceeded to dive bomb me, swooping and screetching bloody murder until I got out of its way. Traumatised.