Steve will often call on his way home from something and that’s when he gets a glimpse of what I’d be like in a coma.
I feel distractible on the phone, tempted to crack open my computer or count the layers of dust on that side table or wonder what we were thinking with that piece of art or cringe at the shit piles around the house or contemplate what’s in the fridge. But if you can see me, there’s some accountability to focus. And I like that. I like your face.
The phone… the phone is all PAY ATTENTION NOW and my inner teenager says text me, and we’ll talk when it’s good and I have time to formulate hilarity. Or something.
So, in order of preference it’s:
- pap smear
Glad we had this talk. Wish you were here.
Today’s NaBloPoMo prompt: When you are speaking with someone, do you prefer to look them in the eye or talk over the phone?