It’s truly amazing to me how quickly we’ve all adapted to being in a true love forever relationship with our cell phones. As in we can’t bear to be apart. We must know where our phone is at all times. For some of us we need to feel it on our bodies. Back pocket, perpetually clutched in our hands or in a purse or other conveyance where we can still give it a pat confirming our number one bestie is with us.
I’m still not over my relationship with my hot pink Motorola RAZR flip phone. When I got that beauty in 2005 I thought I had finally arrived. Little did I know a couple of years later Apple would come out with the iPhone and my flip phone would quickly become “déclassé.”
For a while it didn’t matter to me that my RAZR was being mocked. It wasn’t until I actually sent a text on an iPhone that my ardor cooled. Not having to punch numbers for letters was enough to make me swiftly break up with my flip phone.
Now almost two decades later for better or worse I’m permanently attached to my phone. The other day I actually found myself phoneless and it was an unsettling feeling. I had accidently left my phone at home and by the time I realized I didn’t have my beloved with me it was too late to go home to retrieve it. I was forced to bravely sojourn on phone-less.
My first reaction was what if I have an accident and need to call a family member. I felt vulnerable to disaster without a phone. I had to talk myself off of that ledge by reminding myself that I lived for almost forty years without a cell phone and managed any and all emergencies just fine.
Then it felt weird to be alone with my thoughts. My alone time with my brain is reserved for when I swim, vacuum, take a shower or walk the dog. Time spent driving is for enjoying murder podcasts. Specifically “Dateline” where the lastest story was about a twin sister who pretended to be her murdered sister to discover who the killer was.
That right there beats the musings (which are usually a mashup of thinking about my kids, my husband, pets, money, what’s for dinner, and is my headache, allergies or a brain tumor) ping ponging around in my cerebral cortex.
After I did a couple of thought cycles of kids, husband, money, pets, dinner, tumor I acknowledged that I felt lonely. I was yearning for all my phone alerts, specifically the ones pertaining to the news of the day. Was I missing crucial breaking news about the latest political scandal or a weather event?
Worse than that my children, my grown adult children, who rarely need my assistance with anything crucial beyond using my airline miles – might be texting me right this very minute and I would be – gasp – unresponsive. Then I really panicked because if my kids needed to find out my location it would show I was at home because that’s where I left my phone.
Oh my God, no one knows where I am. I could vanish without a trace. I could be a “Dateline” episode.
This panic swirl continued for two solid hours until I arrived back at my house and was reunited with my phone. Where I discovered I had zero phone calls and only two text messages. One from Williams Sonoma and one from Loft about their “Bye, bye summer sale.”
I guess I need my phone a lot more than it needs me.
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You know what else you need – a good book! I suggest “Killer Dance Mom.” It’s my first Snarky in the Suburbs mystery! 😍 This book features all of the Snarky characters you’ve grown to know and love. Sure, it’s about dance moms but you don’t have to be one to totally enjoy the book because being crazy is universal. 🤪 Also, if you like whodunnits this is a good one. Click on this link for more info. www.amazon.com/dp/B0C4FZTK5B
Snarky in the Suburbs 