Saturday, 4:15 pm: I return from work to find our garden gate flung open. The gate was not open when I left that morning. I check the yard, and then enter the house cautiously.
4:45 pm: Our landline is not working. I unplug and re-plug all of the phones in the house, but despite my technical savvy, the phones do not magically work again.
5:00 pm: I use my cell phone to call the phone company. The man on the other end of the phone puts me on hold so he can run some tests. When he returns, he says, “Yup, your line is at 0.” I immediately think of the garden gate. “Like… dead?” I ask. “Yup,” he says cheerfully, “I’ll send a technician on Monday afternoon!”
5:10 pm: I wonder if the criminal who cut my phone line will let me use my cell phone to call 911 before bludgeoning me to death.
5:15 pm: I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. I think of that movie When a Stranger Calls, but then remember that our phone line isn’t working, which will make it difficult for a nefarious criminal to call me from within the house.
5:20 pm: I ensure all curtains are open. I don’t want to pull one back later in the evening only to discover an axe wielding murderer reflected in the window as lightening flashes across the darkened sky.
5:30 pm: I walk the yard, surveying the perimeter of the house, checking for cut phone lines. I can smell marijuana coming from my neighbor’s apartment, and calculate the odds of a drug addict plotting my demise in order to steal my snack food.
5:45 pm: I email my partner and tell him not to attempt getting in touch via landline as the line is dead/possibly cut. He is on a golf trip, and responds with an “okay!”
6:00 pm: I keep myself busy. I deposit my pay cheque at the bank. I make myself a salad (possibly my last), and then begin watching episodes of Forensic Files which, admittedly, may have been a mistake.
8:30 pm: I decide I shouldn’t be nervous just because my signifiant other isn’t in the bed next to me. I don’t need a man to protect me.
8:45 pm: I begin making a list of people who might want to murder me. The list is surprisingly long.
10:00 pm: I fall asleep watching Forensic Files, clasping my cell phone.
Sunday, 4:00 am: I wake to the sounds of young men rearranging construction pylons on my street. They sound merry, and in their intoxicated state, incapable of organizing a murder.
6:00 am: Good news: I awake, unmurdered.
6:15 am: I note that the construction pylons on our street have been arranged in an extremely methodical fashion, and realize that the young men were absolutely capable of organizing a murder, and possibly, my freezer.
5:00 pm: I return from a long day at work to find my fella standing at the door. I’m happy to see him. We catch up in the living room.
Me: So, the phone’s still dead, but I’ve got a repair dude coming tomorrow afternoon.
Him: (picks up the phone and listens) There’s no dial tone!
Me: Right. I emailed you about that.
Him: Yes, but I didn’t know the dial tone wasn’t working!
Me: That’s what “our landline isn’t working” means.
Him: Honey? (he seems uneasy) I think you’re going to be angry…
Me: (pausing) What did you do?
Him: I might have unplugged something in the basement.
Me: Like our landline?
Him: (heading for the basement) I’ll be right back!
I hear things being moved around. I hear our phones happily beeping as they are connected to live lines again.
Him: (back in the living room) I guess I shouldn’t have unplugged that stuff!
Me: Or maybe you could have mentioned the unplugging of that stuff when I emailed you last night.
Him: Yah. ::pause:: We should probably go out for dinner, right?