I got to work this morning with two missed calls from Mum.
Two.
Two missed calls within half an hour of each other. Surely, some strange contrivances of fate are afoot which have rendered her helpless and lame and in desperate need of my assistance.
I called her back right away even as the clock ticked over and co-workers were chirping happily around me: “Mum? Mum, what’s happened? What’s up?!”
“Oh!” she trills brightly as though she completely missed the shellack of concern in my tone, “Hey, honey!”
“You called? Twice.”
“Oh, yes. I was just wondering if you have heard that Star Wars is coming out on Blu-ray.”
Oh Jesus.
“Yes, I’ve heard.”
“Oh,” she takes on that not-so-subtle glint of secrecy, “Well, your birthday is coming up.”
“I don’t have a Blu-ray player.”
“But we do.”
“And…?”
“You could watch it over here. That’s all I’m saying.”
My coffee has not even kicked in yet. I rub my temples. My desk seems to collapse in around me. Co-workers are still chirping in the background.
“Mum. Did you call me twice this morning just to say that you and Dad want to buy yourselves Star Wars on my birthday?”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
And that’s why I usually ignore all callls before noon.
I divide my time between a variety of poverty-inducing ventures: writing for fun and writing for torture; watching far too many movies and reading far too few books.
I have lived previous incarnations as bookseller, bureaucrat, filmmaker, zinester, student, and wayward traveller. I studied Film at Langara after seven years at Simon Fraser entrenched in English, Archaeology and about every other Liberal Arts and social science topic you can imagine.
I am very good at Trivial Pursuit.
I am related to Dr. Samuel Johnson, writer of the first English dictionary, which explains my perfect spelling and penchant for black cats.
I once lived in a house in the South Hill neighbourhood of Vancouver with six people, four cats, one goldfish, and a vegetable garden for a front yard. We called it The Commune. It was where I lived with my husband before he was Husband, before he was Fiance, before he was Boyfriend, back when he was just Boy Roommate. Life was a sitcom and we were the “will they/won’t they.”
We did.
Once we ran away to England because we like having adventures. But we didn’t like it that much, so we came home again.
I have the personality of a superhero’s alter-ego. Only I don’t fight crime. At least not yet.
View all posts by Ashleigh Kay
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2 thoughts on “Why I don’t Answer my Phone in the Morning”
One Missed Call at 7.45 in the Morning = Just an Innocent Phone Call
Two Missed Calls at 7.45 in the Morning = Emergency!
Two Missed Calls at 7.45 in the Morning ≠ “Hey, did you hear Star Wars is coming out on Blu-ray?”
One Missed Call at 7.45 in the Morning = Just an Innocent Phone Call
Two Missed Calls at 7.45 in the Morning = Emergency!
Two Missed Calls at 7.45 in the Morning ≠ “Hey, did you hear Star Wars is coming out on Blu-ray?”
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Why are my daughters NOT morning people?! Momma
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