For the past several years, I have belonged to an ever-shrinking unique group of Americans. We are often mocked and ostracized…sometimes by those closest to us.
People are incredulous when I tell them. They roll their eyes.
I am told I am woefully behind the times. Old-fashioned. Stuck. Out of it.
I have been cell-phone-less.
And I have relished it.
The un-connected-ness. The freedom from interruption. The lack of embarrassing moments. The absence of the compulsion to flip it open every 3 minutes to see if anyone might be calling me in that instant. The keeping it charged and remembering to take it with me WHEREVER I GO. The NOT having to pay another bill each month.
Alas, no more.
The enemy has infiltrated. It is charging on my kitchen counter. It is a Christmas gift FOR my mother. But it's mine.
I let it sit on my coffee table for a week or so, giving it dirty looks when I passed it by. I finally took it out of the house this weekend. I have made a grand total of two calls on it. When I called my mom at home, she said great! now what's your phone number? Um. I had no idea. I now know that the number 4 figures in it rather prominently, but it'll probably take a while to be able to rattle it off like your average 8-year-old.
It took me about 5 minutes to compose one text message this morning. This is going to be one rough adjustment.
Excuse me while I go chop some firewood for the cookstove.