God, now, that was unexpected.

My cell phone rings. I take the call.

"Buenas tardes", I hear.
"Buenas tardes", I reply, unsure - I recognize neither the phone number nor the voice, but I have friends who like to speak to me in languages other than French, so it could be one of them.

But obviously, it's not, I realize as the man on the line goes on to tell me he's calling Señor Something, am I his wife?

My brain takes a tenth of a second to finish decoding the sentence, and to send me a few important messages:
A. If you thought living on your own would spare you unpleasant moments involving people asking you if you're somebody's wife, you were wrong;
B. Spanish Dude apparently dialed the wrong number;
C. It's your turn to speak, dear.

Then, it took another tenth of a second to take out Quartz' Brain Phone Directory and dial Spanish Department, which had been idle for a whole year now (seriously - I got back from Madrid on July 4th of last year) and was on the verge of going on strike, before allowing me to open my mouth and speak.

That was very, very weird.