At some point in the not-to-distant past my hubby and I switched to having an internet based phone line. I'd been skeptical, but for a savings of over $50 a month, my wallet won. It worked brilliantly until we moved. Only it wasn't the internet connection or the service provider that was the hang up. It's us. We're unfogiveably lazy. (I'm sorry gorgeous change of address cards that are still sitting in the kitchen.) Horribly lazy. (I'm sorry clean laundry that's been sitting in the hall for nearly two weeks.) Blissfully lazy. (I'm sorry muffin tins that are still sitting in the sink begging to be washed.)
You see, we have to plug the phone in. And we just haven't done it yet. Oops. Abby is so disappointed, she wouldn't meet my eyes. Maybe she was expecting a call? We really weren't. The only people that really called the land line were parents, people who couldn't get us on our cells, and a billion and one telemarketers. Perhaps that's why we've been so loathe to reconnect with the world at large.
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