voicemail...

...i hate it. i really do! a phone is enough of an electronic leash. but then you have to go and add this additional ghastly torture to it?!? really! enough is enough!

"You have twelve new messages," the automated voice at the other end tells me.

i fill up an entire eight-and-a-half-by-eleven sheet of paper with notes from all the scratchy audio bites of people trying to get ahold of me; all of them clambering for a bit of my time.

when i'm done (boy, is that an overrated term. i say done. what i really mean is: once i have completed the initial stages of beginning to start taking care of all the things that aren't even on my list but i'm just doing now in order to knock them out since they're so urgent that i don't even have time to write them down and prioritize them.), the screen of my phone proudly announces that i have spent 10:34, and have accomplished the discovery of the following code: "777-777-747777797197777"

cheers!