Phone calls are surprising. I churn when I see the phone vibrating. What would this person want from me? a strange number, quite challenging; might be worth taking. Every time I end up regretting. Still I keep on picking and end up regretting. How could I not answer when it feels like someone is calling? Shouldn’t I write about something more interesting? But then the phone just rang twice, I picked it up and yes, it was not entertaining.
My attention went wavering, whilst I was doing something, whilst the phone became vibrating. I had to focus on the person calling, listening to people and responding to their queries, answering concisely. Sending the right messages, setting a proper voice tone as to not sound un-friendly or too friendly.
I was writing a more important piece one that required the mind and thinking. Hence I opt to write about something less important, these kinda things are easy and entertaining?
I cast a look at my phone, strange numbers, how thrilling. Strange number how appealing, strange numbers how un-amusing, strange numbers gives me mixed feelings. Though, today I had written about the phone ringing. That disrupted my fragile feelings, causing my attention now gone fleeing. I was writing about one thing and now I am writing about the phone ringing.
Speaking of which, at work, no matter how and where I hide, my bosses and colleagues are able to locate me. When the phone rings at work, I think to myself what have I not submitted? And then I think, I probably have to get involved in some form of communicating. NO! no more meetings. All I do is sit and try to look as if I am focusing. It’s always my bosses and my colleagues contributing their problems and making it mine. What kind of sleazy slave am I? Anyways, I cast an angry look at my phone, which looks so innocent and calm while its not ringing.
The time has come for me to enter the shower. On an ending note, strange numbers aren’t amusing. The next time I see a strange number, I am sure I will still answer the phone and who knows I would not end up regretting.
p.s. These days even the emails I get are frightening. Especially, when it is from the slave owners. They don’t really own me. As usual I was exaggerating. Duh (Why the explanation?!). Maybe I am being paranoid but these emails have caused some serious disturbance in me pursuing my normal routine of peace and laziness. Oh life! Ha-ha.
