Blessed2Bless by Steve Klusmeyer
The Corded Phone
by Karen Rinehart
Home  |
Writings by Steve |
Quotes to Remember |
Pictures with a Story |
| Life's FAQs |
Writings by Others |
Newsletter Subscription |
Contact Steve |
My friends make fun of me for having an archaic, inconvenient
contraption bolted to my kitchen wall.
We'll see who's laughing when the power goes out and I'm the only one
on the block who can call the pizza guy. On my corded phone.
I lose cordless phones as often and easy as I misplace my coffee cups. Neither situation is pretty. Just ask my children.
"Oh yeah, remember that one time when mom couldn't find her coffee cup and the pot was empty? I didn't know the dog could fit under the couch, but since mom already overturned the coffee table he wasn't left with much choice." "Was that the day she finally found her coffee cup in the freezer?" "No, that was the day she left it in the shower. Next to the cordless phone."
The phone cord also serves as a child locator. Mere moments after turning fourteen, my son developed the habit of taking the phone into his room to talk behind closed doors. Now how am I supposed to know to whom he's talking? How am I supposed to eavesdrop?
The other day I was laying in a semifetal position outside my son's room, with my ear to the crack below the door, when my daughter came running around the corner and tripped over me. Luckily I had her in the bathroom with most of the bleeding stopped before my son opened his door and discovered me. "Can you keep it down? I'm on the phone." "Oh sorry, didn't know."
Phone cords are good for folks like me who suffer from Phone Fidgeters Syndrome. I remember watching my mother doodle as she talked on the phone. Rarely was there a piece of paper on our kitchen bulletin board or countertop that wasn't covered in one of mom's trademark daisies, curly cues or geometric scribble. Naturally, in my never-ending typically unsuccessful quest to not become my mother, I swore off doodling while talking on the phone. Which I couldn't do if I wanted to because someone keeps moving the pad of paper I keep in the drawer by the phone.
I wrap the squiggly cord around my fingers, twirl it like a lasso, turn in around for my daughter to jump rope and watch the dog tangle himself in it up in it. Did I mention it's a 25-foot cord?
I can reach the kitchen sink, refrigerator, pantry, washing machine and back door to let the dog in and out. Wait a minute. It can also reach my favorite slouching chair in the family room. There's usually some type of paper wrapper or old school assignment shoved under the cushion.
Maybe doodling isn't so bad after all. But I'm keeping the cord.
Feel free to pass this on to friends, family and anyone else who still has a corded phone in their house!
Copyright © 2003, Karen Rinehart
Used by permission.
Visit Karen's web site.
Find Karen on Facebook.