Solitude

My phone has been out since yesterday sometime. Being in the least populated county of the least populated state in the US, we are not high on the phone company’s list of priorities. Unfortunately, a land-line phone is the only thing that works out here. We are down in a little bowl that the cell phone signals seem to shoot right over. Which is kind of nice if you, like I, hate cell phones. When the land-line goes out, however, I am communications-challenged. That is why I signed up for Satellite Internet. It was the only way to go, especially after living in Cheyenne for five years with high-speed Internet access. I’d go mad if I had to revert to that old slow as a snail dial-up. As my neighbor said when he was checking the weather forecast on dial-up, “The weather could change before this comes up!”
Before I moved to Cheyenne six years ago, the phone company had been out to do a repair. They had to dig up a connection down by the creek and string some wire out on top of the ground for a temporary fix. Well, that “temporary” fix is still there, exposed connections and all. The cows and horses run through it. I reminded the nice phone man who came out to reconnect me when I moved home. “Yeah, we know about it,” he said, “we just haven’t had time to get back out and fix it.” Everytime we get a little moisture, the phone goes out, go figure.
So this is solitude. I just did an article on How to be Happy Despite Solitude for eHow. I thought I was a good candidate to be the expert on that one. I like my solitude most of the time. One of my brothers was teasing me about being afraid of the dark a while back. I told him if I was afraid of the dark, I sure wouldn’t be living out here.
When I was a kid, I was afraid of the dark. Growing up with eleven brothers and sisters would make you afraid of the dark. We had an out-house for a toilet until I was age 12. There were bushes, sheds, and a small irrigation ditch that we had to pass by to get to the out-house. Someone was continually hiding behind these in the dark, or lying down in the ditch, then popping out as us younger kids with a "boo" or a roar, when we were on the way. Lots of times, that made you not have to finish the trip! Just go back to the house and get dry clothes on.
My older sister often got stuck babysitting us younger ones, and she had a knack for telling ghost stories. She’d take us into a dark room and start in. Before you knew it, you were actually seeing the strange lights and hearing the noises she was describing. Sure kept us quiet, though it wasn’t too conductive to sleep. So, Linda, here’s to you, if you’re reading this. I can’t call you. I’m sure not going back outside to check the phone!