This is one of those rare mornings when I have very little to write about. I was emotionally drained yesterday. I just thought of something rather silly. Why am I writing I have nothing to write about? Obviously, having nothing to write about is something to write about in itself.
I don't fully understand why I have this uncontrollable need to answer the phone. I have caller I.D. If I don't recognize the number it's a safe bet I won't know, or want to talk with, the caller. But when it rings, I can't help myself. It may be my age?
When I was a kid if the phone rang I answered it. If I wanted to make a call sometimes I had to wait until a stranger finished a conversation about her gall stones. Today everyone in the family, including little Seymour, has a smart phone. In 1954 we had a party line and a heavy black phone with a rotary dial.
Just remembered something: This happened when I was 4 or 5 years-old. My oldest brother was going to college a two hour drive from Detroit. He would come home some week ends and the signal when he returned to school was a person to person or a collect phone call. In either case the answer on our end was a resounding and emphatic "NO" and my folks would know he was safely back.
Told you I have this need to answer the phone. My father probably had to give two haircuts for the cost of my affirmative answer. He was really pissed at me.
Some years latter we had a very cool wall phone in the kitchen and a pink Princess phone in my moms bedroom. A cute little night light glowed from the dial. They were so unstable you had to dial with one hand and hold the base of the phone with the other.
I just discovered that in 1987, the last year for records, 2.8 million people were still on party lines. In rural West Virginia the last people were switched over in 1989. Just a little trivial knowledge tossed in here today.
So I have this pathological need to respond to the ring of our phone. At least I don't start drooling like a Pavlovian experiment. Day before yesterday an energy efficiency company called to tell me we "qualified" for a free in-home energy evaluation. Sponsored by PG&E (our power company), service people would access the house and install (if necessary) window caulking, low wattage light bulbs, weather striping, and even a brand new refrigerator. I wasn't interested.
I'm not comfortable with strangers poking around my house. We have energy efficient lights, double pane windows and just about everything offered. But we sure could use a new refrigerator. Ours was purchased in 1993 and its seen better days. Aw Hell, now the damn thing will stop working soon. When Wanda got home I told her about the phone call. "Can you call them back? One of our patients just got a new fridge, it's really legit." Back to good old caller I.D. I went and voila', zee number. (zee is not a typo..say viola' zee number with a French accent)
"Hi, someone called here a few hours ago to ask if I was interested in a free home energy inspection. I declined. My wife just got home and told me I was an idiot. I'd like to go ahead and schedule that if I may." Transferred to the person that originally called, we exchanged a few pleasantries, I admitted my idiocy, and we began the 'qualification' questions.
Name, rank, and serial number went well. I was daydreaming about our French door (with water and ice) bottom freezer fridge when she asked, "Do you earn over XX,XXX.XX per year?" I know we're friends here (why would a stranger read my blog?) but there are some things that should remain private. "I'm sorry, what did you just ask me?" And she repeated her question. We didn't qualify as our income was too high. I did hear some 'hints' about fudging the paperwork.
Wanda and I tell the clerk at Safeway when we're UNDER-charged. I knew we would get a basic fridge, not my 3K model. But we couldn't live with ourselves if we got something we weren't entitled to. It's a good thing, what this company and PG&E are doing. They're trying to shrink the carbon footprints of the area. It would be much nicer if the qualified income level was high enough to afford food once that new fridge was delivered.
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