The house is a mess of a mark of a week which feels like a blur. So many said that. But now it's a five forty-two in a still, dark home of a heater working. Quiet hum and then not. Then you can hear the refrigerator running. And let me age myself here.
Kim and I would make prank phone calls to people. We never considered that the phone was all the way across the house attached to the wall and then it could be that the person we were calling was having to get up from a couch or desk or wipe their hands from washing dishes. We never thought about that. We just thought we were hilarious when we would dial a random number is our county's yellow phone book. We'd pick a town, place our index finger in the plastic hole, push clockwise, and listen as the dial turned back.
Life was slower then. It seems to be getting faster now.
Whoever it was, we never knew, would finally answer that phone and sometimes admittedly in an elderly voice, but we were ten years old. A thirty year old was elderly to us.
"Hello?" in the whatever is old to you voice you can imagine.
"Hey. Is your refrigerator running?"
"Is my refrigerator running?" The voice may seem younger and stronger now.
"Yes. Is your refrigerator running?"
"Yes, my refrigerator is running. What business is that of yours?"
"Well you better go catch it." I'd look at Kim and she'd look into my eyes and know that we weren't pranking anymore that day.
Today I am grateful to consider how sometimes I'm just not all that funny.
No comments:
Post a Comment