So, I'm thinking of changing my voicemail message
Tuesday, 26 April 2016 01:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carose59"And I Would Have Gotten Away With It, Too, Except For—My Entire Plan!"*
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This story, such as it is, starts with my slacks.
Many years ago, I bought five pair of lightweight knit slacks: green, wine, navy, black and purple. They're perfect for work in the spring and autumn, but they do have issues. They have the same problem most of my slacks have: they're built for someone much taller. Sadly, I am not someone much taller. The waistband goes up to the edge of my bra. They also do not have pockets.
Now that the groundwork is laid, let's begin the narrative. I have a very strict morning ritual. Upon awakening, I rip off my CPAP mask, maneuver my way off the bed without disturbing Meg, and dash to the bathroom to pee.
After that I take care of everything I need to do in the bathroom (which, when the weather is nice, includes opening the window and putting a can of cat food out for Meg. When the weather is nice, Meg eats breakfast alfresco. Although I might have to rethink that, because ants have been getting into his food. Maybe I'll buy him a cucumber for the window sill). Where was I? Oh, yes, after I'm done in the bathroom, I go into the bedroom and get dressed. Socks, underwear, slacks, and shirt. I'm a very basic person. Once my clothes are on, I take my phone from the bedside table and put it in my pants pocket.
Unless my pants don't have a pocket. Then life becomes frightening and uncertain, and bad things happen.
Once I'm dressed, I go to the hall to do my exercise: twenty minutes on my pedal exerciser. It's like a stationary bike, except you don't have to climb on it and sit on an uncomfortable seat. And you can read while you do it, which I do. If I don't have a pocket, I might remember to carry my phone to the hall, where it sits on a shelf of the bookcase next to me. Sometimes it sits there all day.
Then I make sure the heat's adjusted, or the windows are closed, grab up my laptop, go to the front door and put on my shoes. My shoes live near the front door so I always know where they are. If my phone is in my hand when I go to the front door, I put it in my purse, or in my coat pocket if I'm wearing a coat when I leave. If my phone isn't in my hand, there's a good chance it will spend a lonely day on the bedside table or the bookcase.
Have you ever tried to explain to someone that you didn't answer their call because your pants don't have pockets? And because of the way those pants fit, you really cannot clip something to the waistband. And with the pacemaker, I'm not allowed to carry a cellphone in my bra.
In short, sometimes communication with the outside world is a crapshoot.
*Adam Felber
-:- -:- -:- -:-
This story, such as it is, starts with my slacks.
Many years ago, I bought five pair of lightweight knit slacks: green, wine, navy, black and purple. They're perfect for work in the spring and autumn, but they do have issues. They have the same problem most of my slacks have: they're built for someone much taller. Sadly, I am not someone much taller. The waistband goes up to the edge of my bra. They also do not have pockets.
Now that the groundwork is laid, let's begin the narrative. I have a very strict morning ritual. Upon awakening, I rip off my CPAP mask, maneuver my way off the bed without disturbing Meg, and dash to the bathroom to pee.
After that I take care of everything I need to do in the bathroom (which, when the weather is nice, includes opening the window and putting a can of cat food out for Meg. When the weather is nice, Meg eats breakfast alfresco. Although I might have to rethink that, because ants have been getting into his food. Maybe I'll buy him a cucumber for the window sill). Where was I? Oh, yes, after I'm done in the bathroom, I go into the bedroom and get dressed. Socks, underwear, slacks, and shirt. I'm a very basic person. Once my clothes are on, I take my phone from the bedside table and put it in my pants pocket.
Unless my pants don't have a pocket. Then life becomes frightening and uncertain, and bad things happen.
Once I'm dressed, I go to the hall to do my exercise: twenty minutes on my pedal exerciser. It's like a stationary bike, except you don't have to climb on it and sit on an uncomfortable seat. And you can read while you do it, which I do. If I don't have a pocket, I might remember to carry my phone to the hall, where it sits on a shelf of the bookcase next to me. Sometimes it sits there all day.
Then I make sure the heat's adjusted, or the windows are closed, grab up my laptop, go to the front door and put on my shoes. My shoes live near the front door so I always know where they are. If my phone is in my hand when I go to the front door, I put it in my purse, or in my coat pocket if I'm wearing a coat when I leave. If my phone isn't in my hand, there's a good chance it will spend a lonely day on the bedside table or the bookcase.
Have you ever tried to explain to someone that you didn't answer their call because your pants don't have pockets? And because of the way those pants fit, you really cannot clip something to the waistband. And with the pacemaker, I'm not allowed to carry a cellphone in my bra.
In short, sometimes communication with the outside world is a crapshoot.
*Adam Felber