Oy. Just tried to perform my daugterly duty by calling my mom, but all went badly. For one, she was pissy (something about my dad, I don’t know). To top it off, every time she tried to communicate her pissiness, my cell phone hung up on her. Not my fault, I swear. I do feel quite indebted to Verizon providing such crappy service on Mother’s Day–crappy enough for me to not have to hear Mom bitch. Aren’t mothers supposed to be cheery on Mother’s Day, anyway?
I have begun to wonder about my cell service, especially lately. And I’m thinking now might be a good time to bite the bullet and get a real phone line. Of course that’ll mean making friends with Qwest (a company I’ve never particularly liked) and it’ll mean I have to buy a phone. Ugh. More expenses. Even so, I suppose it would be worth my while to have some sort of functioning communication device at home. At present I can’t make/receive phone calls because of poor cell reception; I have no internet access and I have no TV reception, either. I know that last one isn’t really communication-related, but it does fit within the ways I connect to the outside word when I’m home. So if you’ve been trying to reach me and can’t, well, that’s why. (Yes, John Paul, I’m talking to you.)
On the upside, I’m officially unpacked (save for the things I don’t want to unpack and probably never will). My apartment is mostly tidy and I’m all ready for guests, should anyone pop in. It’s kind of lonely over there, so if you’re in the neighborhood, why stop on in.
*I wish I could have provided you with a more entertaining post, but this is the best I can do for now. A thousand apologies