Last week, we got ourselves a brand new telephone number. We haven’t had a home telephone in years, relying on relatively good cellular service. Except for in our own home. Dropped calls, bad reception, it was just getting difficult to carry on any sort of conversation with people who cared to listen to our daily adventures, complaints and other minutiae. Namely, our parents.
So we called our local cable company, who had raised our rates after a recent promotional period ran out, and found ourselves getting a pretty sweet deal on the whole package. And now, we have a land line, which includes unlimited local and long distance calling. No more waiting until nights and weekends or counting minutes or whatever. Not like we did any of that stuff anyway, really, but still! No more dropped calls! There’s definitely something to be said for that.
Except! We haven’t even had the new number a week yet, and enough already with the telemarketing! Being at home and effectively by myself all day (I have a lot of one-way conversations, but those really don’t count much when I’m feeling isolated from the adult human world), I was excited to hear the phone ring for the first time this morning. Until I realized that no matter how many people you DON’T give your sweet new phone number to, the auto-dialers and spaminators will always find you somehow. It’s quite amazing, really.
So I guess I’ll have to go ahead and get myself on that old “do-not-call” list. Because as fun as it is to have a fancy new land line, it’s not so cool when one is trying to, say, take a nap with a newborn. Or address whatever need it is he happens to be screaming about at the time.