Panic time: Without an iPhone in hand, how could she manage to run her errands?
It’s truly amazing to me how quickly we’ve all adapted to being in a true love forever relationship with our cell phones. We can’t bear to be apart.
We must know where our phone is at all times. Some of us 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.
Almost two decades later, for better or worse, I’m permanently attached to my phone. The other day I actually found myself phone-less and it was an unsettling feeling. I had accidentally 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 alone.
My first thought 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 40 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 latest 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 worries about my kids, my husband, pets, money, what’s for dinner, and whether my headache is caused by 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 and 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 knew where I was. I could have vanished 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 a “Bye, bye summer sale.”
I guess I need my phone a lot more than it needs me.
Reach Sherry Kuehl at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com, on Facebook at Snarky in the Suburbs, on Twitter at @snarkynsuburbs on Instagram @snarky.in.the.suburbs, and snarkyinthesuburbs.com.
