So I called up zambezi on saturday to see what he was up to. He picked up the phone and muttered in what was a conspiratorial whisper, "My window's open".
"What?", I said. "I can't hear you."
Again, he whispered, "My window's open, man".
"Oh okay", I said. "What does that mean?"
"I'll call you up later", he whispered.
I began to wonder if he had discovered an intruder in his house and whether I should call 911.
After a couple of minutes, my phone rang. It was zambezi.
"So is your window closed now?", I inquired, in a suitably concerned voice.
"What are you talking about?" he replied.
"What were you saying earlier about your window being open?"
"No man, I said I'm at the US Open. I couldn't talk", he replied.
Enlightenment dawned upon me.
"Oh okay, Are you at the game?", I asked him.
"No, I'm at the US Open", he said.
"Yes, yes, I said, are you at the game?", I asked testily.
"No man, I'm not at the gym, I'm at the US Open", he said, still with remarkable patience, considering the fact that I was interrupting him at the game.
"Okay, listen, I will call you up later tonight once I get out of here", he finally said.
"Alright. Have a good work-out", I said and hung up before he could respond.