An hour ago I woke up to a voicemail from my friend Eric, who lives in Los Angeles. He said he had gotten a phone call from my neighbor Frank, who had my dogs. Further, Frank had knocked on my door but I wasn't home.
Of course I panicked, even though I had no idea how Frank, who lives four doors down, would have my own number, much less my friend's in Los Angeles. I ran to the kitchen, and there were all my dogs.
The whole thing is as yet unexplained, but what are the chances that somebody named Frank, dialing from a Vegas number, mistakenly dials a number in L.A., and the recipient of that call happens to have a friend who 1) shares my first name (not in the top 100 most common names, fwiw); 2) lives in Vegas; 3) has multiple dogs; and 4) has a neighbor named Frank.
WTF, mates?
BONE-CHILLING UPDATE: It is just that...a confused old man named Frank who dialed the wrong number. This is probably the longest longshot I will ever experience, by a factor of about a million, and I didn't even get a bet down on it.
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