701-1210/Anna: For a Good Time

Theme song: 867-5309/Jenny

I cancelled my landline today. 701-1210/Anna.

After texting with Joey, the U-verse rep, for about an hour, we straightened the whole thing out. I would not pay $99 to have 701-1210 combined with my internet line (for clarity's sake just know that this whole situation was a product of rapidly evolving technology and AT&T bureaucracy). Nor would I pay $40 monthly to keep 701-1210 alive.

It makes sense, what with everyone in my household having his or her own personal communication device and Skype or Google Hangouts for international business. And yet.

As we were wrapping up I texted, "Joey? Is it gone?"

"Yes," texted Joey.

I cried. It was okay. Joey couldn't see my tears or hear my snivels via text.

Then I thought: I better double check before I get really hysterical. So I did.

The handset was, granted, sticky from disuse, but . . . sure enough! 701-1210 was still live.

That gave me a little laugh and pause for thought. It kind of illustrates how grief and loss are illusory. I certainly wasn't going to let a little reality get in the way of my grief, though, and the phone will surely be dead soon enough.

So, I kept crying -- discreetly (I think you all know I can be very discreet when the situation calls for it.).

Some of you might think I'm a silly little sentimental wanker, but I had 701-1210 for 23 years. Over half my life. She survived death, divorce, three moves, and a dead cat. I slew her in the service of a little extra cash in my pocket each month and because, really, how can I justify this type of redundancy?

I think all the major vestiges of my young adulthood are gone now.

{photo credit: Todd Ehlers}