Men know that women don’t have a sense of humor if awakened early when they have no reason to get up. On such days, most of them can sleep past noon in a sort of circadian hibernation cycle. When one of those opportunities comes along, men who disturb them will wish they hadn’t.
My friend Celia, as typically female as they come in most respects, has the ability to fabricate tales extemporaneously, especially when awakened before she intended to get up. Now retired, she enjoys the luxury of sleeping as much as she wants to. Last Friday, I violated that luxury by accidentally pressing her speed dial number on my phone shortly after sunup.
How anybody can think clearly upon awakening is beyond me; I can’t even remember my name until I’ve drunk two cups of coffee. But Celia’s mind spools up to full tilt the second her eyes blink open. She read my name on the phone’s incoming call display, and in a husky, Lauren Bacall voice totally different from her usual one, said, “Hel-looooo, big boy.”
Since I’m usually called “old geezer” by females, instead of “big boy,” I thought about hanging up, but didn’t. “May I speak to Colonel Kernel (name changed to protect an innocent who isn’t)?”
“No, but I’m expecting him any moment,” she answered, romantically sotto voce. “If you’d like to call back later, he’ll be here for quite a while, or I’ll give him a message for you. And who might you be?”
“I’m Jimmy, one of his friends. Just tell him to call when he has a chance. I’ve got an update on our mutual friend who is in the hospital.”
“Will do … Jimmy Boy. Ta ta.” Click, buzz.
Despite the fact that Celia and I have had an ongoing weekly lunch date for almost fifteen years, during which, like all females, she dominates the conversation, her come-hither, bedroom voice fooled me completely.
Colonel Kernel never called back, and I assumed his wife forgot to give him the message, so I called again early the next morning — a Saturday. This time I pressed the right speed-dial button. The lady who answered the phone obviously had no reason to start her day before noon, and in a brusque manner, informed me that the colonel was not at home. When she asked for my name, I pressed the disconnect button.
On our next weekly lunch date, Celia and I invited Colonel Kernel to join us at our favorite restaurant, Emileigh's Kitchen. During the meal, I told my friends about the phone calls.
When I finished, my companions were staring at me — one with the look of a husband who had been chastised by his wife for not telling his friends to never call early on a Saturday morning, and the other with the look of an avenged woman.
Finally, Celia burst out laughing. “It was I you called on Friday,” she said. “From now on, Jimmy Boy, always remember: Let sleeping women sleep.”
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
