As a general rule, I hate phone calls.
Which is silly because I used to love phone calls and once had a huge fight with Ina coz she was hogging the phone. Needless to say, we were both teenagers. Alan had to break up the fight and shoo-ed me out of the house coz I was this close to breaking open Ina’s skull with a vase. Honestly.
Then one day I lost the appetite for phone calls. Both ways: making calls and receiving calls. By losing appetite I mean I literally cringe when the phone rings. For some reason, I don’t find talking over the phone attractive or necessary anymore. Just one of my quirks.
And of recent times, I should be forgiven to believe the phone is an instrument of doom. You are so easily reached at any time of the day and night, wherever, whenever, whatever; yet the one person that matters is the one that never calls.
It is nicer to think that people can’t reach you because they can’t reach you. When they can’t because they don’t want to, well, that’s just ….you know. Fill in the blanks.
I am re-learning to like the phone again (the faulty E90 doesn’t help) and dammit it’s hard.