Stop. Fucking. String. Texting.

This is my own sample but the proper way to send this message: one text. "Want to get beers on Tuesday, like old times?"

I just had my first quarantine meltdown. It wasn't brought on by loneliness, a lack of vitamin D, poor hygiene, or anything that would ail a normal person. I've been practicing to deal with those things my whole life. What did it was a string text. 

All of you undoubtedly have one of these friends, a friend who is just IMPOSSIBLE of communicating like a normal person and instead opts to yap at you like a little dog with a string of short thoughts. It is beyond insane that people do this. It's a virtual version of someone rhythmically clapping in your face while they have an argument with you, only these people aren't trying to have an argument so it's even worse. It takes you by surprise. When you're fighting your guard is up and you know not to let those little annoyances get to you, keep your eye on the big picture, but when you're just sitting on your couch and you get the BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ it makes you want to drown your phone in the bathtub. 

I was on my daily phone call with my mother. She calls me while she's walking the dog and tells me about the podcasts she's been listening to. It's like cliff notes for podcasts, pretty good. Anyway we'd gotten through the podcast and her asking me to come home, which I always politely decline because I'm not sure how to say "Ok but I'll need half the house to myself so I'm not ashamed to do my job, which is heavily focused around yelling about dicks and doing yoga in my underwear while watching Chaps do yoga, in front of everyone," and we'd moved onto her talking about some dead squirrels on our street. I imagine everyone is running out of things to talk about fast, as no one is doing anything.

Just as we got to other roadkill related topics I got a BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ right on my temple, as that's where my phone was, and I lost my mind. "FUCK! FOR FUCKS SAKE WHAT COULD YOU FUCKING WANT," I screamed as I paced my room like a serial killer who'd just been disrespected, "I MEAN HOW HARD IS IT TO SEND A FUCKING TEXT! ONE TEXT! YOU GET ONE FUCKING TEXT." My mother, who was undoubtedly still quite concerned about the deceased bushy tailed rats, entertained my hysteria and was even nice enough to pretend to agree that it was a warranted outburst.

BUT IT WAS A WARRANTED OUTBURST. I may be ahead of my time but texting is becoming my least favorite thing in the world. It's like the new e-mail, where you're on group texts about work and your friends are just sending you things they find silly but are usually just a waste of your time. I'm not sure what the new texting is quite yet but I think it's phone calls. You want to talk? Call me so we can hammer this out quickly and I can get back to doing nothing. But if you're still gonna text, do it concisely. Don't ask if you can ask me a question. You get one message and get to the point.