While I do have a home phone, I couldn't tell you what the number is. I got it because my internet and cable were cheaper if I added a phone line. I don't know why. I've never used it, and I don't have a phone connected. What would probably make the most sense is to use it as a FAX machine, and maybe someday I'll do that.
When I logged into my Comcast account today to pay my bill -- which I didn't because it isn't due for another week -- I noticed I had voicemail going back to early last year. Since I was already looking for something to listen to with my new headphones (which I bought so I could take an online course in French), I decided to listen to my voicemails. Well, technically, most of them weren't mine but intended for someone named Richard and his wife (I assume), Linda. Of course I couldn't just listen; I had to create a back-story for Richard based on what I heard. It was sad. Some of his friends were trying to get in touch with him and apparently didn't realize he had changed his number. Or maybe they weren't friends at all and that's why they didn't know about the number. Most of it was rather generic -- other than the calls from "friends" -- but one was especially sad: a call on December 24 from a correctional institution. I'm not sure who the inmate is in relation to Richard, but how sad is it that the person reached out on Christmas Eve and thought Richard wouldn't accept his collect call? It may not have been sad for Richard, but I'll bet it was sad for the inmate. I had a friend who was in jail -- I may have mentioned that before -- and I know how much it meant to him to talk to someone outside of prison, especially around the holidays.
I have a lousy cold today, or maybe it's just allergies, but I feel like crap. I've been trying to keep busy with housework and yard work, but my little glimpse into Richard's life proved an interesting distraction. If Richard is the man I think he is, he wouldn't mind at all.
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