Forced liberation

My cell phone died last week (moment of silence).

And while most of my energy has been channeled into frustration over how many ways the phone company is trying to fleece me (not to mention any names ... but the site of Catherine Zeta Jones makes me red in the face), the whole situation's kind of had a liberating effect on me.

The voicemail at my number instructs callers to try my husband's cell if they need to get ahold of me. I don't know if I lost some popularity, or if people don't want to bug Superman, but I don't get many calls handed over. It's been kind of nice to have something "beyond my control" preventing me from answering my phone whenever it rings, or calling someone on a whim when I think of something. I can't, and that's OK.

Of course I crave the feeling of security (waiting for hubby to come home late last night without any phone was a little unnerving), but I can be patient ... until the next time I talk to the company again!