I don’t want to talk on the phone. I’d rather someone else did it. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s strangers. Maybe it’s because when I talk to strnagers I am asking them to do something for me and I don’t want to be in that position. Anyway, I procrastinate until my wife makes the call.
There are only a few people I will call. I have two friends I will call just because. I do make business calls, but I push them off until I have to, because usually I don’t really want to talk to those people. I’d rather write than talk, and I’d rather write to strangers than to people I know.
I don’t know what to make of it, because I was a little like this before I got sick, but it’s a lot worse now, and even though I’m better, my phone calling is not much better.
I don’t like answering the phone, either. I feel like someone is going to ask me to do something I don’t want to do. I just hate that.
But once I get past that initial reluctance, I’m fine. I like talking to people. It’s just the way it interrupts my life that I don’t like. It’s like a thing. You know? A thing you have to do in some kind of awkward way that doesn’t fit into the natural flow of your mind. It’s just a thing. I can’t really describe it any better. Just one of those things, like when you say that you say the word as if it is freighted with meaning. A thing. Make a call is a thing. Answering a call is a thing.
My wife wants me to make these calls or handle them, and I hate it. I don’t know what she wants me to say and I know she will always ask me if I said this or that, and I haven’t said it. If she wants answers to all these questions, why doesn’t she make the fucking call?
God! I didn’t know how much this bothered me. I guess I’ve been suppressing it. God! It’s just such a…..... thing!