You've got the wrong number, ma'am

The other evening my mom was calling her sister in California. She barely waited long enough for the "hello" before launching into a diatribe of her life.

"I fell again today," she started. "Just one step, this time." And she went on to tell her story.

Finally, after a five-minute opening, she asked, "So how are you doing?"

"I think you've got the wrong number, ma'am," a strange voice responded.

"You mean I've been talking to a stranger all this time?" she asked.

"Yes you have, ma'am," the voice told her.

"I'm sorry! I thought you were my sister! Well, you sure are nice to keep listening to me!"

"Aw, that's alright, ma'am," he said. "Now you watch out for those steps."

"Oh, I will," she reassured him. "I don't want to fall again!"

"And I hope your son gets that job and your grandson's tonsils come out okay."

"Oh, me too," she replied. "All I can do is pray."

"Good-bye, now," he concluded and hung up.

"What a nice young man," Mom mumbled to herself as she hung up the phone.