Dear Telephone

I wish you knew when to ring—not while I’m cooking please. It’s hard enough to get over my dislike of burnt fingers, and smarting eyes. I painted the kitchen red as a stop sign to stay out of there. You do give me an excuse to mess up, but mostly you’re just an annoyance.

And by the way during my nap, or when I’m reading, could you just hold your breath until I’m ready for you.

I realize I need your services and thank you dearly for letting me keep in touch with loved ones.

Too bad you don’t have a heart or early warning system. I guess it’s too much to ask you to be a psychic. But couldn’t you syphon off calls to my condo about roofing, siding, window replacement help. And how many times do I need vents cleaned, windows washed or grass cut when they should be paid for by the condo establishment?

I’m a writer and need my time.