On Tuesday, July 1, 2008, at 8:40 a.m., the K-Cellular family entered into a dispute stemming from last month's cellular billing statement. An email to all K-Cellular family members read: "This month's phone bill was $500. It doesn't do any good to have 3,000 minutes when we use over 5,000. The email named K-Cellular member Mimi Kopulos as its No. 1 culprit in violation of cellular minutes used that month.

According to June's monthly billing statement, Kopulos used 2,373 minutes of the family's 3,000 minutes. In a statement issued Wednesday, July 2, 2008, a K-cellular member who asked not to be identified said: "Yeah, Mom just called me from her cell phone, and I had to beg her to let me go."

"I can explain," said Kopulos. "I'm using my cell phone more because I can't find any of the five cordless phones in our house. Last month, I spent over 10,000 minutes searching for cordless phones. I searched for a cordless phone underneath the beds, behind the couch cushions, the laundry room and inside the barbecue grill. Eventually, I found a phone in the freezer underneath a bag of frozen peas, but I had to wait until the phone thawed to use it. I had no other choice but to use my cellphone."

I'm minutes away from holding a cardboard sign on the corner of Main Street that reads: Will work for cellular minutes.

I phoned my son, who used 47 minutes last month, and asked him if he planned to be home for dinner that night. "What time is it?" he asked.

"It's 5 o'clock, why? I asked.

"Your free minutes don't begin until 7 o'clock."

Who elected him Executive Family Relations Specialist? I phoned my oldest daughter. "What's up? I haven't heard from you in days."

"Mom, it's not 7 yet."

"You, too."

"Sorry, Mom. Call me back at 7."

When our Little One ordered $70 worth of ringtones for her cell-phone, my family applauded her savvy cellular skills. Last month, she used 649 minutes! "Hey, Mom, have you seen my cellphone charger?"

I can't help it if I have more than five friends. "Why haven't you called me back? Are you mad at me?" my girlfriend asked.

"No. I'm grounded from using my cellphone before 7 p.m."

"Then call me on your landline."

"I would if I could find one. I'll call you back after 7."

I found an old wall phone in the basement and plugged it into a phone jack. Primitive, but nevertheless, I had a phone with a 200-foot long cord attached that stretched to the kitchen, bathroom, laundry room and the neighbor's house next door.

It wasn't long before the phone disappeared. "WHERE'S THE PHONE?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" yelled a K-cellular member from the other room.

"Why don't you text message?" my son asked. "It's free."

My son is from the chat acronyms and text messaging generation. Which explains last month's 47 minutes. The last time he wrote me, he was in kindergarten. Now he's text messaging "LOL" (lots of love or lots of laughs) and "WBS" (write back soon) to everyone but his mother.

"WE (whatever)," I said. I consider myself text savvy — in a grammatical sense. I spell out every word. It's difficult for most of my friends and me to shorten our dialogue because we speak in novella dialogs. And when we do attempt to text message, the text resembles a word salad. I sent a text to one girlfriend that said I would be OOT. I thought everyone knew this one. She sent me a text back asking what I meant by OOT.

Besides, most of my friends and I need reading glasses to text message. And anyone who wears reading glasses knows that reading glasses are a lot like cordless phones, you can't find them when you need them.

To find out more about Mimi Kopulos and read her past columns, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

COPYRIGHT 2008 CREATORS SYNDICATE, INC.