Well, it finally happened. After all of these years as a smart phone owner, I killed one. The most expensive phone I’ve ever owned. The most all-encompassing phone I’ve ever used.
This has only happened one other time. My phone slipped out of my sweatshirt pocket in a dorm bathroom stall. Splash. Dead. That little Nokia never saw it coming. And neither did my iPhone.
I was cleaning up after our housewarming/engagement party (which was awesome, by the way) and putting sodas and beers back into their boxes from their overnight ice chest soaking. As I leaned over to separate the root beers from the diet cokes, I heard something fall into the ice water and hit the bottom of the tin bucket. Confused, I looked at my hands and couldn’t understand how I had dropped something when I wasn’t even holding anything. And then I saw it. Hawaiian turtle sticker side up. Helpless from the fall out of my sweatshirt pocket.
I could not believe how quickly panic set in over a phone. Mr. Levelheaded thankfully stuffed it into a bag of dry rice and extensively googled the subject. I, on the other hand, removed myself from the situation for fear of tears. Seriously. Tears.
Not only does this phone hold my entire life (including pictures from our engagement party that don’t exist anywhere else), but I felt like an idiot for dropping it in water and we don’t exactly have $400 for a new iPhone during this wedding planning phase of life. Russ eventually calmed me and we moved on to work on sending out our Save the Date, but the bag of rice on the desk to my right just continues to taunt me.
I understand that the moral of the story is to not be so attached to your phone. Technology shouldn’t rule your life. Blah blah blah. I’ve been having problems with this for quite some time. Back when I was anxiously awaiting the arrival of my new Razr in the mail and was phoneless for two days, I had nightmares that Dr. Phil had been called in to perform an intervention for my cell phone addiction. I don’t even consider myself to be a techy person. Russ had to physically force me to sync my phone to the computer like I was a small child refusing to push the button myself. And for the life of me, I do not understand where the goddamn cloud is. But this phone kept track of everything. And now it’s lost (though Russ will probably work his magic and restore the information to the new phone). And even after this trauma, the only thing I can promise about the new phone is that it will never see the inside of my sweatshirt pocket. It will absolutely still hold my whole life, only this time, I’ll sync it even more (I don’t know if that’s possible, but it sure sounds good)!
It’s pretty embarrassing to realize how much I use my phone during the day. And maybe by tomorrow, this will have felt like a nice little break from the world, but I sure hate it right now. How in the hell did I ever get anywhere without Siri narrated turn by turn directions?!
For now, I’ll keep myself busy with Save the Date envelope stuffing and count down the hours until the new phone arrives (thank goodness we have insurance on our phones). And any suggestions for how to survive short term phonelessness would sure be appreciated…