Burning Cornbread

I was at work. I worked at a school office. There was a voice mail on my cell phone from a number I didn't recognize. It was my husband calling, borrowing someone else's phone because he had locked himself out of the apartment. It took me forever to return the call. When I called, the owner of the cellphone he'd called from almost couldn't find him anymore. When husband got on the phone, he was all panicky because he needed to get back inside soon. He was baking cornbread and it was going to burn.

It would take too long for me to get to the apartment with a key. I was going to call the manager for him. Everything was also going wrong with that process. There was a red "stop" button on my computer and I pressed that instead of the start button. I was trying to get the number for the manager off of the internet and had to restart my computer because I'd pressed that red button! When I finally got back on, I couldn't remember the name of our apartments. Husband already had to give the phone back to the guy, so no help there.

I said "He'll figure out to go to the manager's office", and I wondered why I hadn't just told him to do that in the first place. I just imagined the smell of burned cornbread smoky smell in our apartment, like a nightmare in the making, and realized I had wasted most of my lunchtime, so I proceeded to the vending machine to buy some Frito's corn chips.