Anatomy of a Panic Attack

Brit and Lydia are home today. Brit is recovering from hip surgery. Lydia is 9. I'm at work.

Cell phone rings. Caller ID says, "Home". I answer.
Hello?
Static.......
Hello?!?
Static....
Signal fades. Call lost.

I call our home number.
Phone rings once. Static. Big static. Scary static. "The Ring" quality static.
I hang up and call back, to our home number.
More static.
Oh no! What's happened! I hope the neighbors are calling 911!

I breathe, and call Brit's cell. It rings like 10 times.
I call the home number again. 1 ring, then static.

I'll leave. I'll drive home. I should go right now. What could be happening?
But first, I should check a couple things.

I go online and make sure I paid the phone/cable/internet bill. Maybe Lydia was just calling to say the TV stopped working? Maybe that's why the phone isn't working? I paid the bill.

I call Brit's cell phone. Thank the lord, Lydia answers on the 3rd ring.

Me: Sweetie? What's wrong? Is everything okay?
Lydia: Um, Mommy?
Me: Yes? Oh honey, what's wrong?
At this point I'm prepared for the worst. The electricity is out. The dog's been shot. Or, oh lord please no, she can't wake up Brit.
Lydia: Well..... I can't get the can opener to work.
And there's me, suddenly cracking up at my desk.

Seriously? It takes one staticy phone and I'm all worked up over a complicted can opener.
Stress and my imagination are a bad combination.
She's making a bean and cheese, but she can't get to the beans.
Me: Oh. Well, what's wrong with the phone?
Lydia: Daddy thinks it's out of batteries.
So, I told her how to work the can opener, and asked her to make sure all the phones were in their chargers.
Crisis over.
Now when's lunch?