Counting the fax machine, there are 14 different phone numbers for this household. (I'm also counting Daniel's cell phone, despite the fact that he is in Maine, since I still pay that bill!) Fourteen. This is partly because the cable modem company offers something silly like eight. So even the kids have their own land lines. But they also each have a cell phone, which may seem like coddling the suburban kiddos but is really very convenient for me. The dog does not have her own phone line.

But I hate using the phone. I rarely answer the house line (any line, really). The kids don’t even seem to notice it ringing. Guests will look at us all as we ignore the shrilling – none of us even flinch. We just keep going about our business, talking, eating, whatever. Sometimes guests will even volunteer to answer it, a little uneasily, as if they're wondering if we are avoiding someone specific or whether maybe we all are just a little confused or hard of hearing. Many people are very uncomfortable around a ringing telephone.

So technologically it is very easy to reach me. But first you have to get through the barriers my personality raises.