About a month back I was driving around the northern suburbs of Atlanta on my way to pick up some homebrew supplies and restock my beer fridge when I turned on my cell phone to call K and ask her a question. My dialing was interrupted by a voice mail notification, so I checked my voice mail to see if I needed to return any calls. There was one from Julie, an occasional, but prolific commenter here, about getting tickets to the Kids in the Hall show. That was great; I had e-mailed her earlier about getting tickets together so we could sit in the same area. The problem was that the message was at least a month old.
This is not that strange. I've maybe used my phone three times this year and it's typically sitting uncharged on top of the microwave in the kitchen. I only even think about taking it with me when I know I'll be driving alone (like that weekend when I found Julie's musty message). I've considered dumping the thing for a pay as you go phone because one block of minutes would probably last me three years and I'd save a ton of money, but K and I have a family plan and tap into the same pool of minutes. Still, we don't go a whole of lot places separately. We only have one working vehicle and work about 200-300 yards from each other and the phones don't work in the house, so I know she's not using a lot of minutes either.
But all of that is irrelevant to any of you. Just know that if you have my cell number, don't bother using it unless I told you before I headed out that I was taking it with me. And don't bother leaving me a message. It's likely to end up sitting unchecked for weeks. If you don't have my cell phone, none of this mattered to you anyway.