The Anticipated Demise

The end is near. It’s not unexpected as my phone has been headed down this path for nearly a year. At first it was almost comical. Dropped calls. Unbearable static. Unreliable service. Strangely enough, I always seemed to drop a call just as I was about to make a “Code 35 violation.” [“code 35” is the euphamism my parents and I use in reference to gossip, or lashon hara. The letter ‘lamed’ = 30 and the letter ‘hey’ = 5.] Today was the proverbial straw. My phone no longer closes. I am NOT kidding. The only way to keep it closed, and save the life of the battery, is to put a heavy object on it.

Anyway, I have been on PC’s case about the emergent necessity of a new phone. Not just a desire. But a real need.

Why involve my husband at all?

Reasonable question. It all comes down to a division of labour. In every household, responsibilities are divided between the adults according to some mystic and extremely scientific plan. Trash. For example. Trash is the daddy’s job. Don’t know why. Just is. Of course, when PC is out-of-town, I lug the barrels down to the curb. Clearly capable of this job..and yet, it is so not my job.

Cell phone contracts…also not my job. If for no other reason than PC’s work has always had a “preferred” phone company. So this really does fall under his portfolio.

The exciting news, for me at least, is that I’ll be moving from a basic phone to a smart phone. That’s right — a Blackberry is in my future. This is good news. Now I can stay connected in my car, in the lav, even on the pulpit.

No. Not really.