Tuesday, July 9, 2013

I'm moving backwards in time ...

When I threw out my portable phone nearly three years ago, I'd have told you right then that I would never again have a land line, and because life kind of has a way of making you eat your words, I'm thankful that no one ever asked. Last week, the husband and I downgraded to one cell phone and exchanged the other for a plug-in-the-wall land line phone. It's been ... a transition. Yeah, that's the best, least loaded word.
You know, I wish we'd gotten this phone.
Now, I'll be the first to tell you that I'm not married to my phone. I'm not on it at all times, and I even put it in my purse when I drive because nothing pisses me off more than turning my head to glare at the person who's been swerving in and out of their lane and they are fucking texting or whatever. I specifically wanted a smartphone because I figured, well, I want to have a media presence, and if I'm not at my computer, what will I do then?? Huh? HUH?? Wait until I get home to tweet about my awesome experience at Logan's Roadhouse? I THINK NOT. If you ask any of my friends, they'll tell you that the longest they've ever talked to me on the phone is about five minutes. Maybe. Three minutes is usually my max, because I've gotten distracted by something else or I honestly have nothing more to say and don't want to drag the conversation into awkwardsauce territory. So of course, my phone was mainly used for Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. I even downloaded the Blogger app, but hahaha, yeah, I never used that.

Despite all of this, I teetered between mania and relief. What? I can't take another picture of Zeus, the stray cat that I've apparently adopted, and post it on Instagram? Whee! This "new" corded phone (we bought it for $2.99 at Goodwill, betches) makes me feel all nostalgia-y! Wait. I can't text people?? OMG. MOAR RITING TIME!! Huh. This means they'll have to a) email me, b) message me on Facebook or Google Chat, or c) call me on the land line (although none of them have the number). This definitely limits the amount of time I'll have to talk on the phone. Right? Is this a good thing or a bad thing? I am spazzing out, where's my wine? I didn't realize how much of a connection to the damned piece of technology I'd made, although I'd like to think that it was mainly because of Spotify. The first day that Three took the phone to work, I felt off and even went about trying to find my old iPod so I'd have something that resembled my phone. And I did find it in a box of shit I'd completely forgotten about, in all its chunky glory.
Yep, this bad boy. It feels so heavy now.
As the week went on, though, I kind of liked the fact that I wasn't constantly reminded that I had a new email or that a telemarketer from Utah was trying to sell me a vacation cruise. I'm sure they'll get our new number eventually, but for now, it's nice. And I've found that not having my iPhone with me when I go on walks actually is refreshing, since I get to hear the birds and cars driving up on me before they honk, redneck-style. I don't know if I need a cell phone now, although there's a little part of me that just cringed.

Maybe I just need more time.

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