I don’t like being at your beck and call. Yes, you. And by you, I mean everyone. Everyone, and everyone’s mother. Yes Eve, I’m talking about you.
I’m becoming more and more like my father, who says that if you call him and he doesn’t answer, you had better leave a voice mail because otherwise he isn’t going to call you back. He never even wanted a cell phone. Didn’t want people to be able to reach him so easily. I think he was much happier with his old pager.
Used to be I was a textaholic. You could count on me texting back, almost always. More recently, I treat texting with a much more laid back approach. If I get back to you right away, it’s by my own choice, or it was a matter that needed to be addressed immediately. I understand that, I do. But I may not respond if wasn’t anything urgent (and let’s be realistic, even if it was, my phone may have died or killed itself. It does that sometimes.)
And . . . and . . .
I really need to stop doing that. I know what you’re thinking, and it goes something like,
“”Well, my days of not taking you seriously are certainly comin’ to a middle.””
Y’see, this whole mess can be avoided by not having one of those demonic devices.