The Kindness of Repairmen

Ah....the inconveniences of modern life. I never knew what an old-fashioned heart I have. Cell phone at the age of 27. Cable TV, Moxi (Tivo's younger and less articulate step-brother) and internet at home...all at the age of 28. We are in the age of communication! I work in the FIELD of communication. And yet I find myself sweetly satisfied playing the role of the crotchety hermit who lives in the bungalow (code word: closet) by the beach. The voice mail, email, snail mail and every other kind of mail messages taunt me: "helloooo...friends who care here. conversations waiting to be had." But my introverted soul seeks to hide in a book with a glass of wine..relishing the red velvet drops on the lovely pages as I underline seemingly meaningful passages. The characters become my friends for awhile and I'm sad when the last page is turned..but also a little relieved.

I have been without a phone in my home for a month now. I have tried wireless, voiceover IP and finally, the nearly extinct "land-line." And with each "no" or "we'll have you connected in just a few more days" my anxiety grew from a latent insecurity of loneliness to a desperate and unashamed cry for human contact. The days of my hiding from the phone seemed distant and laughable. Where was everyone? Were they trying to call anymore or had they given up by now? After all, how can they tell the difference if my phone isn't working or if I'm simply on another of my vacant vacations...

My repairman lounges on the floor, complimenting me on my choice of bright colors for such a small apartment. He says they breathe life into it. He's been here for an hour already and so far he hasn't been able to figure out the problem. He is easy to talk to, and before I know it, I'm voicing all of these thoughts...these confessions, to him. He smiles at the growing look of panic on my face, hands me the phone and says as I hear a beeping noise, "Looks like you've already got voice mail."