Monday, August 9, 2010

Portable Phones

Portable phones were meant to give people mobility around their home while talking, and the occasional hunt for a ringing piece of misplaced equipment is worth all the conveniences the portability of a phone offers me. Unlike me, Hubby has a minor fit if a phone is not returned instantly to its rightful cradle the moment a call ends.

Before my husband retired, as the time approached that he would be coming home from work, I made sure all phones were perched like sentinels in their respective cradles. At first I thought he was the only nut when it came to portable phones being recharged continuously, but a few years ago a dear friend confessed her husband did the identical phone inspection each evening when he returned from work as mine did.

This is the same friend who years ago made the pact with me that when it was time to retire we would have our husbands in one apartment with the AC set at 80 degrees and we would room together and keep our AC at 74. We are both now wondering whatever happened to this plan, especially since our husbands are now both retired. Our habit of not returning phones to their rightful cradles at the completion of each call keeps our Hubbys busy because they both roam the house checking to see if the phones are in their rightful place.

By now I’m used to it, but Hubby’s fetish can be embarrassing when we have sleep over company—they tend to think of my husband as a closet tyrant, which he isn’t. He’s usually a dear, except if he is freezing because the AC is set for my comfort level, not his, or the phone rings and he can’t find it because I left it in another room when I ended my call.

This week, Hubby’s “where’s the phone” rant happened while Atlanta son was visiting. Hubby was upset because the office phone wasn’t in its cradle when it rang. Since I had answered it and needed information from the kitchen calendar, I dared to move the phone to that room and, as usual, I didn’t return it the split second I hung up. Even worse, the bedroom phone was also “missing.”

Atlanta Son watched as his father performed his phone ritual, ranting about potential dead batteries. He didn’t let up until all the missing phones were rescued.

“What’s the sense in having portable phones if you don’t want them moved?” was our son’s logical question to his father. “You’d be better off with the phones attached to the wall like you had when I was a kid.”

I laughed. Hubby’s birthday is in four weeks and I have a pretty good idea what he’s getting for his desk and his side of the bed.

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