Phone Phun

In my house there are five cordless phones, three cellular phones, and one speakerphone/handset. When the ground line rings, there is a mad dash by everyone in the house to find a phone that is working. This usually goes on until the service picks up the call, at which point someone will find a phone with a charge and use the caller ID to find out if we should call back or ignore the call.

Fifteen minutes later we will go through this again, and the calls are hardly ever for adults.

I have never understood why the phones never end up back on the charger. Am I the only one in the house that knows that the phones NEED charging? Do the others in this house think that the phones are magically powered or solar charged? Do they believe in phone gnomes that monitor and maintain the handsets?

Sometimes my wife will call me on my cell phone when she knows I am home just so I will not have to chase one of the five mystery phones.

I love her.

Sometimes one of the five mystery phones will turn up in the most unlikely of places, like the bottom of the laundry hamper or in the glove department of the car. Whenever this occurs, no one can offer any possible explanation for how the phone could have gotten there. The day it appeared in the dishwasher was a day that should become a holiday. “Telephone Sanitation Day”

I miss the days when there was only one place the phone could be. The damn thing had to be there because it as attached to the wall with a wire. Even if someone took it, you could always track it down by following the wire. Without the wire, it was useless.

I think they were on to something. Imagine having a wire attached to the phone. No running around trying to find it. No missed calls because you can’t find the damn thing. No more searching around in the bottom of your purse because some one else’s phone rings.

That could bring about a new age of enlightenment. Think about it. All the time wasted on hunting phones could be put to more creative uses, like the search for truth and the answer to where all the lost socks really go.