Hey Oprah! How are you with electronics? Any issues with the brown finger where pretty much anything you touch turns to crap? Not sure how you could have that in the same hand that possesses the Midas touch, but just thought I would ask. I have a problem with electronics. It really irritates Greg especially when it extends beyond my own stuff to his.
One of my major problems is cell phones. We have a sordid history. Great love affairs with each new device and it capabilities, and then the inevitable downward spiral into abuse. Once, I put my phone in the stroller to go for a walk, and my water bottle condensated, leaving a nice little pool for my phone to swim in. Only it didn’t know how to swim…it was a sad moment when I discovered it had drown. That was a flip phone, so as you can imagine, enough time has passed that I have recovered from the loss.
Then there was my first smart phone. Oh what a wonderful experience having a miniature computer always with me! I knew immediately, why we had put off venturing into the land of smart phone. There was no going back! I had a warranty issue with that phone so they replaced it, but then it happened. One day I was driving, and I went to set my phone on the passenger seat, and it slipped through my fingers landing in my iced coffee. Turns out, smartphones don’t like coffee either—or maybe they do—I watched my screen change color and the whole phone heated up as the coffee seeped further into its interior. Sort of like me in the morning. Unfortunately, that’s where the energy boost fizzled—all of that caffeine short circuited my phone.
Greg was up for an upgrade, so took his and I got the Droid Razr. Whooo hoooo! Thank god for that glass of ice coffee—this phone was AWESOME! It multi tasked before the iPhone did. It was thin with a larger screen. What a delight! I was going to be much more careful with this phone, and the boys were not allowed to play with it. To make sure they couldn’t sneak my phone when I was out organizing the garage one day, I tucked it into my bra (screen always facing out, because sweaty, peri-menopause chick already had enough experiences with liquids and phones.) At some point during my cleaning frenzy, I must have lifted a heavy box whose corner pressed my phone’s screen to the point of shattering. I was sick! It was about 6 weeks after I got the phone. I was smart enough to insure this one with $100 deductible, but I couldn’t bring myself to make a claim. After all, the phone still worked, and I probably deserved the punishment of dealing with a cosmetic defect given my history with these devices.
It’s been more than a year since that sad day. Yards of packing tape used as screen protectors, secretly hoping that the rest of phone would crap out so that I could justify paying the deductible for a new one. Meanwhile, Greg has had the same phone for almost 3 years. We’ve been saving my upgrade for him when he finally decides what he wants. The designer’s I work with have all drunk the Kool-Aid with apple products and wonder when I am going to get one. Being the stubborn witch that I am, I have been determined not to join the cult, on principle. Good principles, eh? After all, apple products are very stable and have great built-in cameras which are helpful for the type of work I do. So Greg said to me the other day to take his upgrade and get on the same page with the other people I work with. What a sweet guy. I still couldn’t do it though…I still have to shell out money, and there are other needs right now. So I keep on keeping on with my once amazing phone.
Today, I took Pierce shopping at Target. He played on my phone (yes, the days of not letting that happen passed when I cracked my own phone without their help.) He still had it in the car on our way home, when he told me he was going to get rid of the cracks on the screen. I thought he was just pretending, but he actually took his thumbnail and dug out some of the glass. Next thing I know he yelps that his thumb hurts. I figured he just scratched himself at this point, but as I am watching him my rearview mirror, I can see his face crumbling because he is really hurting. Then I see the blood. And it is getting all over his hands. He’s panicking, and I am trying to find a place to pull over. I got some wipes to clean him up, and he’s frantic that it’s going to hurt. By this time he has blood drying on his hands, shirt, face, leg, but it seems to have stopped. When I am sure there is no glass caught in his skin, or need for stitches, I get back behind the wheel to drive the couple of blocks home. On the way, Pierce looks at me in the mirror and says “I’m not going to die?” Poor darling saw the blood and thought that was the end. Even my phone survived the extra chunk removed from the screen, although it’s now probably a certified weapon. Now, where did I put the packing tape?