Identity Crisis

I was sitting at home last evening. My phone rang, showing a number that it didn't know.

* Hello?
A woman's voice said,
* Bruce?
* Who's calling please?
* This is your wife.
It wasn't Mary. I was pretty sure of that.
* Excuse me?
* Bruce?
* Could you please tell me who you are? I mean, my name is Bruce, and I have a wife, but I'm sure that it's not you...
* Oh, I was trying to call my husband. I'm sorry. Goodbye.

So I got the number from my phone, googled it, and found this guy:



Bruce Budnick. He's in construction, and a fan of International Supermodified Association, a touring racing division of open-wheel, little racecars. Hi, Bruce!

I'm having a hard time constructing a narrative that would lead to that phone call.

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Shortly thereafter, I was talking to my friend Paul in the hall of our apartment complex. As we parted, he said, "Okay, goodbye, have a good weekend, Steve."

At this point, I'm not sure who I am.