Dead Fingers Walking

I decided to take a day off between the day we got back from our honeymoon and the day I returned to work. If you don’t properly decompress after a long trip, you can get the vacation bends, where you still aren’t fully aware you’re no longer on vacation and you run the risk of asking your boss for more towels or something.

Anyway, I was reconnecting with the numerous websites I’d been out of touch with the past week when I heard this rhythmic thumping outside, slowly getting closer. It dopplered up to my door, then past it, then on down the walkway past the rest of the apartments in our building. Now, I was fairly certain no one was calling a sandworm in our vicinity, so I felt brave enough to look outside.

The new phone books are here, the new phone books are here!

And really, what’s the point?

Why do they bother to print these monstrosities anymore? Do I really need a six-inch slab of paper laying around the house? I can think of better uses for that much paper, and apparently so can plenty of my neighbors, because it’s over a week since they delivered these things and at least half the apartments still have the damn books sitting outside their doors.

I can jump online and find the number for the closest Pizza Hut (which won’t deliver to our complex for some reason, but that’s a different rant). Most people have cell phones, which are listed in the white pages anyway. And seat technology has advanced to the point where you can just twist a nob to sit up higher rather than having to prop a phone book under your ass.

Yeah, yeah, I know — not everybody has the internet. Well, at this point, it’d probably be cheaper and more environmentally sound to give everybody basic web access than to print the telephonic equivalent of War and Peace every six months.

Besides, with no phone books, we’d be spared all these businesses named AAA or Aacme just so they can be first in the book. As if you’d want to cater to a class of customer whose prime criteria for choosing a business is proximity to the beginning of the alphabet, but hey, a customer is a customer.

We kept our books in the apartment for a day or two, like some stray dogs we’d fed and couldn’t get rid of. We tossed them out last night, never having even taken them out of the bag they came in. It does occur to me that, after bemoaning what a waste of paper they were, simply throwing them in the trash probably wasn’t the best course of action. So sue me.

I hear AAA Legal is a great firm.


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