"Its A Girl Thing"

We used to have an old crank-the-handle party line phone. Our number was 54D, so our ring was a long and two shorts. There was a small local exchange. You ground the handle and Doris at the exchange would put down her knitting and connect you to George Harris, whoever. She might, though, tell you that; "George is over at Harry's, shall I put you through to there?"
To make a toll call was a big deal, it was expensive. We lived 30 miles from the city and a call to there was always interupted by a parental yell in the background, " Not too long, it's a toll call." To this day I cannot speak too long on the phone. I am even the same on the truck R/T.
An incoming toll call, especially at night, was usually a portent of disaster. Someone ill, someone missing, something wrong. I still get a bit of an anxiety rush when the phone rings late at night, now usually to send me off to a slip, or accident.
The females in the Fart Household, however have a totally different conception of phone use. They will happily ring someone in the farthest corner of the planet, at any hour of the day or night, and have a long chat about what colour to paint something, or an in depth conversation about some ailment, or the price of chops. They will trail the phone lead to somewhere "comfortable" to do this, so they can really settle in and chat. Of course it is always a toll call. Deep in the heart of the Telecom building a meter is whizzing, counting up the minutes, till eventually the phone bill arrives with a thump in the mail box, to a howl of protest. Of course any attempt to cut a conversation down to say, an hour, is considered an act of intolerable cruelty and barberism. Apparently it is a "Girl Thing". I just don't understand, etc etc.
It's a shame I don't like using the phone. I think I personally own about 4 exchanges so far.