I’ve come to realize overtime that I am a habitual, notorious worrier. If I’m calling you to talk about whatever inane subject is on my mind at that moment and you don’t answer within the first three to five rings… I’m actually getting a little nervous now at the thought of you not answering within the first three to five rings.
Instantly my mind reverts to all twisted, perverse, and paranoid rationale for why, why, you’re not answering the phone. Someone broke into your house and is holding you at gunpoint or you experienced sudden, acute, and likely impossible paralysis while you were in the bathtub and you can’t turn off the faucet. Frantically I continue to call you thinking my persistent attempts to reach you and save you will, in fact, save you.
I actually consider beating down your door, fists flying, to rescue you from the dark forces keeping you from answering my call in a timely manner until you finally answer the phone, annoyed. I revel momentarily in the swelling tingle of relief. Momentarily. Now I’m pissed. “How dare you not answer the phone in three to five rings after my multiple attempts? Do you even know what kind of stress you’re putting me through? I don’t even want to talk to you anymore. I’ll call you later.”