As shared on Facebook the other day:
“Fascinating new low: putting coffee in the the cupboard, shutting the door, and looking for the reheat button.”
Yes, that’s right, kids.
And no, I’ve got no chemical scapegoat these days on which to blame my haplessness. Just a bad night’s sleep followed by a morning spent looking on the floor for my soul so that I could try to put it back in my body. I suppose, however, it’s my own fault. I let myself get way too stressed out over life’s various foibles until I awake a rubber-band stress ball. But after a weekend of my iphone self-destructing, ipod self-deleting, washing machine breaking, and dishwasher giving me the “Fckk this shit o’clock” early checkout from doing its actual job, do I get a free pass?
Just this once?
Judges?
Alright. So sue me.
I had a moment. A “life’s attacking me” one – that culminated in me driving into nature to find solace and instead punching in the roof of my car till I spontaneously combusted. I was so tired of keeping up with modern technology by the time my SIM card crapped out on me Labor Day, that my mom had to really give me a good pep talk, complete with a whole dry erase board setup and supplemental graphs explaining the logistics behind why I shouldn’t toss my communicative brick off a bridge. So I reluctantly shaved off the navel length beard I’d spent three hours growing, set down my bindle, warned her “DON’T TOUCH these! I’m not sure if I’ve changed my mind!”, and temporarily eschewed my Thoreau fantasies in favor of a trip to my local AT&T store.
I’d say I was glad I did.
I’d say it made me realize how important having a phone is. I’d say I was wrong.
I’d say all’a that – if these things were true.
But as I reflect on this, only one thing really comes to mind: that I hate relying on technology so much – that even deep down in the bowels of my subconscious desires upon waking half alive in the morning, I’d rather warm up my coffee mug in a darkened woodened cupboard – and use the box below it (that’d be more effective for that specific job) to blow up my phone instead.
And its new SIM card.
But after my Labor Day emotional explosion, I say:
Better it than me.
