You may think you never get calls anymore; that everyone knows to text. I’m one of those people who only answer for like, five people. And if pressed about letting them ring off, I would be like, “nah, it’s spam, it’s a creditor hunting the man I’ve been divorced from for five years, it’s somebody wanting something. I ain’t answerin’.” Well, the exception(s) to my I-Only-Answer-Five-People rule was exercised tonight. First, I got two calls back to back from a number not stored in my phone. I just KNEW somebody was dead. “Mrs. Johnson?” Came the pert American voice when I answered on second round. Me: “This is Amy, yes.” “Your table is ready.” Me: “Pardon?” Because it was kinda loud. Pert girl: “We’ve got your table ready. At Blackhorse?” Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry! We’re at the bar!” I tell her, leaning around to peer at the hostess stand. I totally forgot to update them when I basically stalked a couple as they left the bar, like a hyena after whatever prey it is hyenas prefer. Oops. Yeah, they’d texted, too. I never give their hostesses much credit, but obviously they’ve got it more together than me. The second time, it was the mother of my oldest childhood friend. I talk to her maybe once a year. This definitely warranted answering. And of course I couldn’t hear her, either, so I stepped…