Apparently people feel comfortable talking to me. That is fine with me. I love to talk.
I could be standing in line at the grocery store and the person behind me would begin to have a conversation with me. I would learn all sorts of unwanted information. My mother was always amazed. She wished she could do that.
One evening before fixing supper I needed to call the telephone operator for some reason or another. She ended up telling me practically her life story.
She lived with her boyfriend. They were not getting along. She gathered all his belongings and threw them into the front yard.
She was terribly upset. I was on the phone with her for almost 2 hours until she was finally calm enough to let me go.
All I wanted was a phone number.
