It Was Just That Kind of Day


Today, despite technology, Iphone, Ipads, five Macbooks, an Itouch, and an online chat system, I still got to whip out my handy dandy rotary phone.


Cicely’s on the phone again.  The cord, yellow stretched tight from the rotary phone in the kitchen nook to the downstairs bathroom.  Where my sister is in deep, uber serious conversation with her boyfriend.  I can almost see what the phone number is hidden under the smoky plastic cover that the rotary dial spun around.  The cord is pulled so tight from that the curls are straightening out with the tension of trying to reach to the bathroom around the dishwasher, one of those kinds that wheels to and from the sink, and the fridge.

I was transported back to high school today and yet, overwhelmed with so much technonology that my brain frizzled out.




Snap. Crackle. Pop.

The OCC system, which really should stand for ADD, or the online chat system, is tricked out, oh so cleverly, to sound like a bicycle bell.  In between the ringing on the rotary phone, I got the constant ding ding happening from my MacBook as the OCC blows up.  Can you ship to Switzerland?  What color is that paint chip?  When is my bike going to be ready?

Then my Iphone starts chirping since, the other line is busy, we have been reduced to a one line phone system, and my GM is texting me to check in with the IM on the MAC, and then, in the twinkling of an imps eye, a flurry of customers come through.

Then, some delivery guy has me sign something on his tracking device with my finger and I have the cradle of the handset in t he crook of my shoulder.

I tell you, it was almost comfortable, like an old, old muscle memory.  As soon as the handset was between my shoulder and my chin, I was back, back, back, in the kitchen, in the house in Windsor, with the phone situated just so talking on the yellow cream phone to Jeff, my brief boyfriend Sophmore year.

Jeff who found me years later after coming back from the Army three years later when I was a freshman at University of Wisconsin Madison.  He dropped a dozen roses off at my dorm.  I was not there.

I had spent the night at my current boyfriends parents house.  Who’s parents had discovered us sleeping together on their fold out couch in the rec room in the basement.


My room mate was all a flutter with the soap opera of it all.

Ah, memories.

Then I am back in the hot seat trying to message and chat and sign and direct and fuck me man. Make the world just stop.


So what facilitated today’s phone blog?  Our lines went down and the phone company said, can’t help you out until tomorrow morning.

Geez.  Thanks.

The general manager actually went and got a phone.  I don’t know if he already had this mystery phone, I heard rumors of it being a rescue from Community Thrift, but we plugged in the line and it actually worked.

For a little while.

Then it stopped.  Then it would just ring. Then it would not stop ringing.

Then there was me beating my head on the phone until bloodied and berated I wandered out into the bike lane was hit by a Public Bike and carted away to General.

Just kidding.

But man, it was not pretty.

Then, when no one was looking, Quick Books snuck in the door and set up camp on my door step.


Run away.

Or better yet, get on a bike and pedal away!

Despite the ongoing telephone fiasco I managed to muddle through.  But man, I lost the ability to talk, to string together coherent sentences, to think.  I feel exhausted.

Beat down by a phone line.

I don’t know what is worse, the inability I seem to have to keep up with the latest app, feature, and gizmo or the reliance on archaic things–like smoke signals.

Because I think that’s what we should use next instead of the, wait for it….

Walkie Talkies


That we ordered from,

Oh this is awesome,


Gadget Bay.  People what is the world coming to?

We ordered walkie talkies.  It’s supposedly an intercom system.


I know a walkie talkie when I see it.

I wonder what my handle is going to be?

Bike Shop Bitch has a nice ring to it.



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