Darqstar (darqstar) wrote,
Darqstar
darqstar

  • Mood:

Well...just...duh!

Once again, I prove I'm so brilliant I shouldn't be let out in public.

I woke up this morning and I had to make a phonecall. So, I pick up the phone...it's not working.

Todd isn't home yet, which worries me too, because he usually calls when he's running late. So, I figure he probably tried, but the phone wasn't working.

So, I get dressed. It is very cold here in Rhode Island. I am half awake, and putting on a lot of clothes to keep warm. I might as well have wrapped myself in a peice of klenex. With a thermal shirt, a T shirt, a sweat shirt and a jacket, the moment I step outside, the wind cuts through me like a knife.

I walk to the payphone...and realize I don't have any money.

I walk back to the house and grab some change. Walk back to the payphone. (It's about .25 of a mile... not much really, but in the freezing cold? Feels like fifty blocks)

I then discover, I don't even need money to call Verizon repair.

We're not even getting to the most brilliant part yet...

I get the repair department on the phone. Through chattering teeth, I manage to convey my problem. The woman checks my lines and reports that from her end, my phone is doing just dandy. I tell her that I'm not even getting a ring tone. All I get is dead air. Zip, zero, nada.

She then asks me if I have a cordless phone, because it might be the battery.

That's when I remember, indeed, I do have a cordless phone. I got one for Christmas. However, this morning, out of habbit, I picked up the old plug in phone, that has been unplugged.

I sorta gasp and say, "Uhm... well... uh, maybe it is the battery. I'll... uh...go check that out and...uh...if I have...uhm... a problem after that... uh... I'll call you."

I go home. Todd is home, wondering where I am. The cats, of course, are trying to convince him they have not been fed. Which is bull. If I tried to leave without feeding them, they would take those razor sharp claws and slash me into a million catbitesized pieces. I don't even answer Todd, except to go, "Morning," through blue lips, and go to the phone, which is sitting in its recharger. I pick it up, I hit the talk button. The cordless phone is working just dandy.

Todd again asks, "What's up? Why were you out so early in this cold?"

I say, "I'd rather not talk about it."

I'm 43 years old, going on 44. I'm too damned old to have "blonde moments" but too damned young to go senile.
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