30.8

I've had rollover minutes for a year now, and I find myself with a stockpile of unused talk-time. Thirty point eight hours to be exact. That is a lot of chatting that I haven't done. Loads of numbers never dialed.

Dealing with rollover minutes (for me) is like going to an all you can eat buffet (except mostly different). One (I'm not in- or ex- cluding myself here, just generalizing about certain human behavior that manifests itself when faced with a row of silver trays full of various food stuffs)...as I was saying, "one" might feel the need/responsibility to get her (note: the telltale pronoun) money's worth by filling several hot white plates. Many times. Eating more than necessary to make the per macaroni noodle cost shrink. Bulk scarfing, if you will.

[poorly thought-out parallel to follow] So, I have these minutes, and I've technically paid for them. Obviously I'm slacking in the calling or answering the phone department, making my per minute cell cost less impressive. I feel the need...or should I say, "one" might feel the need to create a regimen that would chip away at the nearly out-of-hand reserve.

For example, in addition to my regular calling habits (packaged in a single word: negligent), I could talk an extra 10 minutes a day for the next six months to wipe out this growing credit. I don't think I could manage. I'm complete crap on the phone.

Too bad you can't cash extra minutes in the way you would tickets at the arcade. Maybe for a giant stuffed pink bear. Or what if you could donate them to a stranger in need, so instead of offering cans of food, you give an invisible digital packet of 100 minutes? Makes sense. I'd rather sell them (at a reduced price, of course) from the sidewalk...right next to a lemonade stand so that folks could buy a cool beverage to soothe their dry throats after talking for a long while.

I suppose I could just try and reduce my cell phone plan. There's always that possibility.