My Phone

THe prompt this week from http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/ is to write about your love for an inatimate object. I was resistant to admit my love for my phone. Well, it's really more of a love-hate relationship. I love that I can call anyone I choose whenever I want. I hate that anyone can call me. My children are forever telling me to answer my phone, to which I reply, "I only answer it when I want to." I love that I can silence the ring. I hate that the vibration mode always spooks me just a little bit when it goes off in my pocket. My phone has met with a tragic demise. There were warning signs for months that my phone was unhappy. I took my phone on my adventure at sea in April. It lounged around in my locker for 27 days. It's battery never recharged, it became listless and difficult to manage. I charged on my very last day in Peru and cheerfully lavished attention on it in the L.A. airport to alert all my family and friends that I was coming home. It responded by refusing to hold a very long battery charge. I would go from 3 bars of power to one then off and silent in less than 12 hours. I tried recharging it frequently, maybe this was the wrong thing. I caved into its demands, I bought a car charger.
Finally after one too many power outages I gave into my phone's teenage angst and I purchased another battery. A fresh source of power so we could start over and be friends again. Let all the past bygones be bygones. I had hope for a smooth future relationship where I could continue to love and hate my phone. But, by then the damage was done. It may have been depression. It may have been anxiety. It may have been performance pressure. I'm not a doctor, I can't diagnose. But now, my beautiful phone with the new power source became lethargic and distant. It would just turn off. No warning, no demands. It took a careful series of events to turn it back on. The case would have to come off. Then a warm breath would have to be blown across the battery and the sim card would have to be stroked firmly into place. Then the cover would be replaced and usually the phone could be coaxed into returning to responsiveness.
THen tragically last night, it all ended.
My phone in a fit of angst and tantrum vibrated from my kitchen counter to the hardwood floor below. I heard a sound that resembled "a clatter" and when I got there to see what was "the matter" I found my phone powerless and cover missing on the floor. AFter carefully, outlining the scene with a chalk outline, I picked up the phone and returned the cover. My phone has previously made this dive a time or two and been awakened after a brief resuscitive period. But, a las this is the result of last nights tumble.

So to whomever called last night giving my phone the vibration to leap from the counter, I'm sorry I have not responded back and BLESS you for finally putting my phone out of it's misery. It is in a better place right now. And never fear that my addiction with having a phone to call with should cause me to tremor with anxiety at the loss of my phone. I returned my sim card to my previous phone. It's okay, as long as you don't look at the duct tape that is holding it together. I will miss my pretty pink phone but mostly I'm sad because it is not time for me to upgrade so I have to pay for a new phone without any discounts.  Sad face.

All tips on the proper care and feeding of a cell phone should be donated to the comments section. I obviously need a refresher on how to have a better relationship with an inatimate object.