The phone rings at my house. On the first ring everyone in their separate rooms and separate activities goes silent. Will someone answer it? It rings a second time. You could hear a pin drop as everyone holds their breath waiting to hear footsteps marching to answer. By the third ring it’s obvious that no one else is going to answer it and a stampede erupts (I suppose that would be a mixed metaphor). Every member of my family performs dangerous leaps over couches and lazy-boys. They stub toes on floor-board heaters. Anything to get to the phone before it goes silent. What if it was for me? Of course, if it’s missed (a situation that, as you can imagine, seldom arises) it’s everyone else’s fault.

The phone rings at a friend’s house. It rings again. And again. A few of them look up from their activities in the direction of the phone then back to whatever it was they were doing. A few more rings pass and the answering machine picks up.

Her family owns a phone. Our phone own us.