In Which I Do Not Acknowledge My Two Month Absence

I have been known in the past to make rash decisions. Now I spend several minutes reading nutrition labels before committing to a box of crackers. Every once in awhile though, I still do something without thinking it through and it comes back to bite me in the ass, much to the amusement of my loved ones. But not to Verizon techs.

After reading this hilariousness and watching Beau whisper sweet nothings to his Iphone, I decided it was time to join the 21st century and purchase my very own smart phone. My BlackBerry arrived in the mail two days later and I spent an evening playing with it and experiencing something very similar to Nintendo thumbs. Yet I was still intrigued by my brand new blinky, buzzy thinger with Interwebs and email and Facebook.

Shockingly, over the next week, I grew to hate it for all its blinking and buzzing and constant connection. I hid it in my desk drawer. I gave it dirty looks at the dinner table. I said hurtful things to it when we were alone. Despite several opinions to the contrary, I did not want to wait another week to get used to it. I could not love this thing. It was unlovable.

Bright and early Saturday morning, I strapped on my snow boots and dragged Beau to Verizon. I punched my information into the waiting list registry and wandered around the store looking at other hateful blinky things until they called my name. I bee lined to the counter and cheerfully asked the tech to take back my BlackBerry. I explained that I thought I was ready for the 21st century but indeed, I am not and this was just way TOO connected and I miss my paper pocket calendar. He gave me a look that suggested that they paid him to do this on Saturday mornings and he did not, in fact, care about my particular breed of neurosis. My cheerfulness waned until he said he could reactivate my old phone so I wouldn’t have to keep using the terrible, horrible blinky thing that plays Bach when no one calls me.

I slid my gray clunker flip-phone across the counter and enjoyed the revulsion in his eyes, probably in the same way that PETA crazies get a kick out of throwing red paint on ladies in fur coats leaving the opera. Oh yeah, I thought, that’s right. I don’t want your miserable smart phone. I reject it. I am publically declaring my preference for this old, clearly inferior model.

Now all I have to do is send the wretched BlackBerry back and we’ll have this impulse buy behind us. I skipped back to the car as Beau shook his head and said he hoped I learned something. Then I made him take me to the Salvation Army.