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…answer the phone no matter who’s number is displayed on the call display. I am the queen of screening phone calls, and not just if it’s a 1-800 number. I really, really hate the phone. In ezmy’s perfect world, we would all chat through email and messenger services. Or just regular old letters! I miss letters.

Now, I didn’t always hate the phone. It’s strange to think about, but there was a time when I simply adored talking on the phone. I remember getting my own phone line when I was 14 (that’s right, land line not cell phone…no one had cell phones and somehow we all survived…) and I was on the phone day and night. And I’d talk to anybody. About anything and, usually, about nothing. I used to sit in my bedroom window, smoke (being sure to blow the smoke outwards as if it made a lick of difference), and chat on the phone into the wee hours of the night about so and so’s boyfriend, and did you hear that so and so got pregnant, and that so and so’s parents kicked them out, and isn’t so and so dreamy and blah diddy blah blah. This was a time before messenger or ICQ (remember ICQ!?); maybe things would be different if Angst-y Teen Ezmy was a teen today. But back then, I remember those phone conversations being oh so important to my day. They made me feel connected and needed (I was usually the person who people called to vent to. Come to think of it, I’m still that person through email).

So why do I hate the phone so much now? Because I’m no good at it. ‘It’ being talking on the phone and making chitchat. I’m just no good. I’m awkward and bound to say something stupid/boring. If I have anything to say at all – I mean, my life is pretty straightforward these days with nothing much exciting going on. And while I could talk for days about how cute and fascinating my child is, I’m pretty sure this would fall under the category of dull as ass to most people.

This is not to say that all of my phone conversations are awkward and horrible. For example, I talk to Lady Heather fairly regularly and these conversations are fine. But generally speaking, I talk too fast and I get the distinct impression from phone conversations that I’m boring the person on the other end of the phone. Not always, but often. And that might all be in my head but whatever. That’s the thing about emails, see – if what I say on the first go around is stupid/boring/etc., then I can always re-write or come back to it later. I can carefully craft my responses and think up clever sentences and wordplay. I guess I hate phones because I’m not quick on my feet.

But anyway, I resolve to answer the phone if I’m home. And to answer my cellphone. Cursed cellphones. As if landlines weren’t bad enough. Before my cellphone, I could just tell people I wasn’t home. I have no such excuse now. And I can only be changing so many diapers….