Still double-numbered
Time to focus on the job at hand: trying to remember if I did anything today. Oh, right, I didn’t. Never left the property. Almost as if I had one of those invisible fences. Even the roll of flyers, dropped in the driveway, landed safely inside the perimeter.
There was one thing. That flyer pile contained what serves as the local phone book. I haven’t received a “real” book in years; the phone company knows that I never call anyone. I did take the time to check if my name was correctly spelled (it was) and if I shared my number with anyone else (I do). That’s three books in a row that list the former and the current “tenants” of the given phone number. Proof that the whole thing is nothing more than a shell for advertising. Surely the phone company is aware of the situation. To be fair, I’ve received one misdirected call so far, and that came from the local store. Doing a lookup for a mail delivery and getting me as a backup choice.
I spent some time piecing together a family chain from Cape Breton; confusing, when the tendency of this one group was to marry with cousins, willy-nilly. That’s not their real names, for the record. I imagine that back when there were only trails through the woods (single lane) you courted close to home. Still, I have never wanted to marry any of my aunts or cousins (nor they me). We had the power of the Church behind us, rather than the power of the church. A distinction.
