March 27, 2012

Musings

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My cell phone doesn’t get that many calls. Aside from calls from the Boyfriend, and occasional calls from the roommate, it mostly remains silent.

That’s fine 364 days of the year. But there’s one day that I want the phone to ring: Golden Heart finalist call day.

In 2011, my call came bright and early, waking me at 8 a.m. So when I woke up 0f my own volition at 8:20 this morning, I was kind of already resigned to not finaling this year.

Add this to the fact neither of my entries has managed to final in any other contests this year, and I was even more convinced it wasn’t going to happen for me in 2012.

Then I checked the RWA website and saw there were only four finalists in my category. Knowing contemporary series had to have more than 40 entries, hope ticked up a notch.

I jumped in the shower and then drove from the Boyfriend’s to Flagstaff in time for  the massage I booked to keep my mind off waiting for the phone to ring. Best idea ever. For a blissful hour, I enjoyed being pampered and didn’t think about the GH (much anyway). Really. Hardly at all.

After the massage ended and I’d paid, I glided bonelessly to my car, relishing a few more moments of not stressing out. Only then did I allow  myself to check my phone.

Imagine how shocked I was to see a missed call from “blocked.”

My hopes immediately skyrocketed. I started driving myself crazy, wondering if I could be wrong … if I would be joining the 2012 GH class after all. I tweeted my frustration at missing the call. I text-messaged my chapter president. I e-mailed my critique partner.

Then I tried to go back to my routine. Yeah, right. Like anything captured my attention besides willing the phone to ring again.

It happened as I was walking into the bank. My ringtone was sweet, sweet music. I snatched up the phone and checked the display. Yes, “Blocked” was calling again. I answered with a smile on my face and hope threatening to choke me.

“Hello?”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello,” I repeated, increasingly desperate to hear those magic words.

Still nothing but silence.

An edge of anger crept into my third “hello” before I disconnected the call, disgusted with whoever decided today would be a great day to phone me from a blocked number for no reason at all.

My CP says it was probably just a telemarketer. The Boyfriend assured me he gets blocked calls all the time.

Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks telemarketers should be banned from calling between the hours of 8 a.m. and 3 p.m. on March 25 (or 26 if the 25th falls on a Sunday).

Anyone know any lawmakers who can make that happen?

 

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