She occasionally has yogurt. Then the phone rings, and I helpfully say "hah, we know who that is." And she responds that we don't, it could be a telemarketer. Then as was to be expected she takes the phone into her room, and spends the next hour chatting with you-know-who.
Which is actually fine by me. I am not the most social of creatures, and often busy plonking on the computer or reading something printed on real paper, and far better that she should have her conversations with old whatsisname out of my hearing in her own room, in private, instead of disturbing my peace with them and him.
I myself hardly ever use the phone anymore, except to answer the ring when telemarketers call. Every two months or so I make two phone calls; one to pay for gas and electricity, one to pay our phone bill.
Yes, it's a land line. Neither of us are cell-phone users.
Using the phone for courting a young lady, as her boy friend does, is very traditional. Texting is far too rife with misspellings, and content-poor, for so high-minded a purpose.
Of course, I think he's a haamsaplo, and possibly incapable of high-mindedness, but that is neither here nor there.
If I had a girl friend, I too should call her up to spread good cheer and blandishment. Heck, my apartment mate would never get her calls on my days off, because I'd be on the phone whenever poor old Dingus tried to call her.
Actually, that's a lie. Instead I would probably buy a cell-phone, and use it to call up my bon bon and say: "Hi Hon, I'm right around the corner at the bus stop. How about you meet me for a kiss?"
Or: "Oh Sweetiepookins, have you had dinner yet? I have an ENTIRE roast duck, plus some yauchoi and rice!"
Or: "I am very lonely and depraved. But together we can solve both of those problems."
Yeah, something like that.
Romantic electronics.
A nice ringtone.
Remarkably, more can be communicated by hand-holding than by any electronic means. Except that my apartment mate and her boyfriend both have pretty bad Aspergers .......
She's also somewhat anti-social and introverted.
The telephone maintains distance.
I rarely use one.
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THEIR NATURAL HABITAT
There are more dogs in this neighborhood than children. One very rarely sees people walking their children outside when one is, hypothetical...
8 comments:
Urk. This is reading more and more like a sad celibate epistle of a slightly forgotten man, a Dutch Momus in his lost world.
Not to criticize; I rather enjoy it. Perhaps it is your slightly skewed mixture of tobak that is to blame--your Perique and Virginia mixture is equally unanchored. HH Dark Fired Ready Rubbed should correct the condition.
I've not seen the ready rubbed version, but I have an open tin of the HH Old Dark Fired flake in play.
It's addictive.
But not an all-day smoke. It makes one temperamental.
And celibacy is vastly under-rated.
Unless one finds the right poon, better no poon.
The company of the wrong poon is deadly.
Question of standards and self-control.
Celibacy?
Well, I'd rather not.
Just haven't found the person who rocks my socks.
Try using herring as bait.
Celibacy?
Not that kind of celibacy. Common sense dictates not getting intimately involved at any great haste, nor casually and at random.
But celibacy is not a solution, nor a goal.
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