as a matter of fact, it did change my life

We all know that in my past life (as in pre May 12, 2010) I hated cell phones almost as much as I hated exercise. In fact I was even a little bit proud of my cell phone incompetency. If someone would ask for my cell phone number, I would shrug them off (and I confess, with a bit of a sneer, the same one I used with sales people when they would see my unhyphenated hyphenated last name and ask me what country I was from).

But on Mother’s Day I gave in and let Steve buy me an iPhone. He said it would simplify my life. I gave him one last good sneer and said, “this is about you, not about me.”

I was wrong (hello, everything is about me, even I know that).

I have found 7,000 words on Scramble. I have been able to take photos of every significant cup of coffee before the foam disappeared. I have been able to search for directions for warmed goat cheese discs while Steve was driving (slice with dental floss). I have been able to check Facebook from the parking lot. And I thought the iPhone would only help me locate the closest Starbucks. I can make lists (be still my heart, lists!). I can text. I can send pictures of bath rugs at Target to Steve so he can tell me which one to buy (since I can’t really decide between the eight versions of light gray, silver and dark gray).  I can check the weather to see how hot it is (it’s about justifying the complaint, if complaint is needed, though it’s not today). I haven’t received a parking ticket in a month, because the marimba alarm goes off every hour and fifty minutes. And there’s a twofer, when we use the timer for our wall sits at the gym, it’s a little more fun. Plus….I can listen to fart sounds. Yes, that’s right, fart sounds. The app is called Excuse Me, and it’s free. Sixteen fart sounds, ranging from “squish” to “radioactive”. Lightens up any tense moment, no matter where you are. Try it. Or call me, and I will pick one for you.

Oh, and there’s a phone feature, too. Not that many people call me. But I can call home. And the girls. And Steve. Like when I was a the grocery store last night and realized I had his keys. I could call and applaud him for riding his bike to work that day, and I did. I wasn’t going to drive back to the studio to bring him his keys. But I could let him know I cared enough to call. Just like the ads.

There’s hope.

Happy Weekend.

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About kim tackett

Northern CA marketing consultant, writer of very small stories, and drinker of very strong coffee.
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