Killing me softly with his phone

My father is a man of few words, and, until the past few years, few phone calls.

Some of you may already know this, but, for most of my life, if the phone rang, and, he was on the other end, someone had died.

So, even when he got a cell phone, and, his calls were more frequent, I’d never really gotten used to him calling, and, my heart still stops, and, I get a bit nauseated when he calls.

I know it’s about 85% my problem, my mother was sick for so long, I dreaded every phone call, and, I can be a worrier. But, the other 15% is him.

His speech patterns on the phone can be maddening, and, he’s taken to calling me during the day at work which he never used to do, and, I’m just not used to it.

Today’s episode of “My Father is Trying to Kill Me With His Cell Phone”:

*ring*
Me (at work):”Hello?”
My Father: “Elizabeth? (long pause) I’m at the grocery, and, I can’t…”
Me (thinking): “WHAT?! You can’t what?! Walk? See? Move? Breathe?”
My Father: “…remember what the stuff you put on top of strawberry shortcake is called.”
Me: “Cool Whip?”
My Father: “Yeah, that’s it. Bye.”
*click*

No, it’s not a memory thing, it’s a guy thing.