  The last of three "second-class phones" (do you remember that commercial? ) died last night -- batteries finally gave way. I'm in the Rowhouse all day most of the time, and while I do chores I jabber on the phone to all and sundry. Anyway, S went on and on about how much it would be a waste to replace the battery in the other phone, because we don't have a charger blah blah blah. He went to Radio Shack and bought a new phone last night (after applying for and receiving their credit card).
This phone is like a new car -- it has bells and whistles galore. S has been babying it all day, carrying it with him, clipping it to his pocket, putting it down gently in its cradle, practically crooning to the thing. Note: it only rang once, and it was a wrong number. I asked him at one point if he were in love with the phone and he ignored me. He just got up from his computer, which is across the room, and came and put it beside me, near its answering machine/intercom cradle. Gently. (He won't be here hopefully next week when I toss it down the steps ahead of the laundry basket. ) "What," I teased, "did you get tired of having it clipped to your pocket finally? " "No," he said, with a laugh, "I wish it still was.
" 
