The Twilight Zone goes Reality Show

There are three tidbits of information you need to know before reading this post:

1. My husband is a Standford University-educated electrical engineer.
2. Ever since her graduation from college a few weeks ago, Veggie has been working for me in the church office in order to make some money before leaving for her new life in England in July.
3. After saying Goodbye to both husband and daughter in the kitchen yesterday morning, I headed off to work - leaving my cell phone behind. And so I called home when I got to the office. . .

Me: I left my cell phone on the desk. Can you get it and give it to Veggie?
Husband: Let's see. . . . Here it is. . . .Do you want me to swing by and drop it off at the office on my way to work?
Me: No, just give it to Veggie. She'll bring it to me.
Husband: Okay. . .

Now, I wasn't there for the next part of the conversation, but I have to trust Veggie's version of what happened next. . .

Husband: Veggie, while you're on your way to wherever it is you're going, could you stop by Mom's work and bring her this cell phone????

Okay. . . let me get this straight. . . my near-genius of a husband thought my 21-year-old daughter - who stayed out until 2:30 a.m. the night before, mind you - would voluntarily be up, dressed, and ready to go to wherever it was she was going at 8:30 in the morning???

And you wonder why I sometimes feel that my entire life is one sorry episode of The Twilight Zone goes Reality Show????

p.s. . . . in the spirit of truth in publishing here I really should add that old hubbie was a tad-bit preoccupied at the time of our conversation. He had taken a casual interest in trying to fix my Craptop. . . and I'm not saying that he fixed it or anything. . . but I'm am blogging from it right now. . . under strict instructions not to touch the screen. . . the power cord. . . the battery. . . or anything else for that matter. . . .