Sometimes I really hate my cell phone.
We don’t have a regular telephone anymore, just cell phones. It drives my dh up the wall that I rarely have mine accessible. It’s usually buried in my purse where I can’t hear it, or still plugged into the charger while I’m gallivanting about town. He likes to leave me threatening messages on it when I don’t answer.
I’m not sure why I don’t like it. I carry it with me when I know that I absolutely must have it (like when the dutchkid is at preschool and they might call me to tell me she has a serious injury) but otherwise I just… forget. And sometimes? I hear it ring and I don’t answer. Just because.
Maybe it’s my passive agressive streak? Maybe I have early onset Alzheimer’s? Maybe I’m too much of a free spirit? I don’t know, but everytime my dh nags me about it I feel like I’m 16 again and rolling my eyeballs out of my head.
Am I the only one who does this? Maybe I’m too much of a throwback to the olden days when we used to have phones that were attached to the wall (shocking I know). It took dh years to convince me to go to the “no house phone” plan. I think it’s a good lesson in patience. Everybody is so used to being able to reach anyone, anytime.
Well anyone except me, that is. And if you are one of the lucky few who actually have my number, (don’t laugh, my mother-in-law didn’t have it until a few months ago), if you call me and I don’t answer, don’t take it personally. It’s just my one woman protest against The Man. I mean, the phone.