Why Nobody Answers the Phone.

Nobody answers the phone at my house.  The home phone rings, but HRH knows if it were for her, the call would be coming in on her cell.  The Boy doesn't live here officially, so nobody calls our number for him--so even if he's visiting, why should he bother?  The Mister just has no desire to go phone-chasing.  And The Buddies can't be bothered with a ringing phone when there is a wii to master...  That leaves me.  I am the (un)official phone answerer.   But there's a problem...

Apparently, I've become technology challenged...  Or maybe I'm just telephonically challenged.  Between the voice dialing incident (which was repeated the following day - lol) and this latest incident, it's clear that I have issues with phones.

I'm living a situation reminiscent of Sixth Sense.  But I don't see dead people (thankfully).  Instead, I hear phones ringing.  But I am as accursed as poor Cole Sear (Haley Joel Osment), I hear the ringing, but am powerless to do anything about it but stand by and let it happen.  I hear ringing from my purse--what magic causes my cell phone to vanish into that seemingly bottomless bag?  The ringing can be heard from the AV room...  But there's no phone in there, just a cordless-phone base that rings unhelpfully, taunting me to go rushing in on my fruitless search for a handset. 

On Monday morning I was trying to wrap up an important call while also attempting to get out the door.  I was in a hurry to get on the road, so I kept chatting as I moved toward the garage.  I ended the call as I climbed into the car and pulled away from the house.

Life went on.  I went to work.  The kids went to school.  All was right with the world. 

Three days later the phone rings.  I hear the ring from the cordless-phone base, but there's no handset.  I cannot answer the phone.  I can find the dead handset (why can't anyone put that thing on the charger?).  But I can't find an actual, active, ringing telephone.  Why?  Where is that phone!? 

I'm back in my car.  HRH is rummaging through the bottomless void (no doubt looking for money for the movie) when she pulls out the cordless handset.  She looks at me with that eyebrow-raised look that only a teenage girl can master.  That look that expresses disdain and incredulity at the same time.  And informs me that she has found the phone.

Bless her...

Why am I yelling in my car?

I got up this morning with an agenda.  I knew that I would be spending nearly all day in my car.  But I wasn't unnerved by that fact, because I like my car.  It's a new car.  And (today, at least) it's a clean car that smells really good!  It's a car with a hands-free phone system, a satellite radio, and a DVD player (not that I planned to watch while driving--duh). 

I prepared for my day by grabbing a Diet Pepsi, my iPod, the GPS, assorted CDs, and my cell phone.  And for the most part, I was looking forward to a day alone in my car...  I sooo enjoy being alone in my car--nobody to re-tune the radio, nobody to tell me to turn it down, turn it up, turn it off...  I was prepared, and looking forward to my little road trip...

My hearts-and-flowers vision of the drive quickly dissolved into chaotic humor.  I didn't get far from home before the GPS started yelling at me.  And I don't mean talking loudly, the volume was set at 100%, it was yelling!  Unfortunately, at the same time the GPS started yelling, I was also voice-dialing my mom.  My car then started yelling at me...

That command is not understood.  Please rephrase!  

Of course my car couldn't understand!  While I was saying,

Call Mom, 

the GPS was yelling,

Turn Right in 50 feet! 

And I found myself yelling at everyone to Shut Up!  Of course, by everyone, I mean noone...  I was, as you recall, alone in my car...

What?

Sometimes I have to wonder what goes on in the minds of my children.

The Boy stopped in this morning for a visit.  I spent the entirety of the day wondering when he was going to drop the bomb (and what was that bomb going to be?).  He had to be there for a reason, right?  To be fair, we do see him periodically (since college and his apartment aren't too far away), but still, it was a little surprising to have him here for the whole day.

Mid-morning, we decided to run to Costco for a few items.  While we were there, we ran into Zeke's first grade teacher.  I razzed her for leaving my child unsupervised, but she informed me that the class had been left in the capable hands of the student teacher.

After school, I asked Zeke if he knew that I had seen his teacher at Costco.  He did know, and informed me that she had asked if the tall, dark-haired boy with me was Zeke's big brother.  Here's where it gets strange.  Zeke went on to tell me that he had told his teacher that Mike was his big brother, but not really, and not from the same family, and that he came from a different country....?  Huh?

Let me just assure you that The Boy is in fact one of my five children.  Born of my body.  And, for the record, born on American soil.  Where do kids get these things?

And another thing, I'm still trying to figure out what prompted The Boy's visit...  Ideas?

Happy Groundhog Day!