It only took five years, 4 months and 37 days. But that's only from when I started counting. I probably had visions of this happening long before that, but that's when I really started paying attention to how long I've been whining about it.
My husband got a cell phone yesterday! Big deal, you say. Oh, what a big deal it is.
He has been hiding behind the excuse of "I don't want anyone to find me" for years now. Translation: he doesn't want me to find him. He cares less if people from work find him. But I think he's been hiding from me. I don't blame him. I can be a huge pain, high-maintenance, annoying, time-sucking and a general nag when provoked. I fully admit to these character flaws, and there are times when even I would love to hide from me.
It would be OK not to have a cell phone if he weren't a person of importance at his job. I imagine his secretary is giving a prayer of thanksgiving at this very moment, so grateful is she that she can now locate the chair of the department with all the major concerns of the department in a timely fashion. So grateful is she that when the dean calls to talk to Darren, she now has a number to give him. Lizzy, you deserve a raise. Maybe I'll talk to Darren about it tonight!
"He doesn't have a cell phone?" people would ask me over the years, aghast. "You've got to be kidding me!"
I kid you not.
Finally a couple weeks ago after a series of communication mishaps, I had lost it. I was trying to organize something with the family and had a last minute change of plans. Could I call him and tell him what was going on? No! So I went to find him. He was sitting at the physical therapists, getting his knees worked on.
I walked up to the table and told him in a not-so-very-nice voice that unless he got a cell phone within the next week, that there would be some serious consequences. And then I whispered a few in his ears. I do have some decorum.
The therapist working on him said, "Woa!" and tried to hide behind his little laser wand thingy, as to not get involved in a marital dispute.
"Uh," Darren said. "Could we discuss this later?" His face was turning red. But I had just got going. I was on a roll. I had reached my limit. Thoughts of every time I hadn't been able to find him over the years surged through my brain. There would be no mercy.
"No, we cannot. If you had a cell phone I wouldn't have to make a special trip down here, and embarrass you, to tell you our change of plans," I said.
"Well, maybe if you would stop changing plans, then there wouldn't be a problem." he retorted. But he sort of looked as though he shouldn't have said that.
I was speechless. I was dumbfounded. I was trying to save him time by coming to the physical therapists to tell him that things had changed, to please not go pick up our child. How dare he accuse me of changing plans. My blood was boiling over, despite my medication.
I decided not to make more of a scene, although I'm sure that therapist went home to tell his wife how grateful he was that she wasn't such a ___________. Fill in any word you want.
I just said, "You have about a week to get a cell phone, and I'm serious," and fumed on out of there.
It has taken about two weeks, and he has spent a lot of time down at the Sprint store talking to Russ about his options. Each time he has come hope empty handed, where upon I have had to whisper my threats into his deaf ears.
And then last night the phone rang. "Hi! I'm on my new cell phone! See you in a few minutes!"
"I'll believe it when I see it," I said, feeling hopeless.
And then he walked through the door with a little black device and when we said the prayer on the food for dinner we included thanks that our dear old Dad and husband had finally entered the 21st century.
Now he's got to figure out how to use it. He's going to pay his teenage daughters to enter in all his contacts and get him up to speed on technology.
I guess he can still not answer when I call, but I can still whisper consequences til the cows come home.