Death of a Cell Phone

It's amazing how easily you can become attached to things. Just four short months ago, I didn't own a smart phone, and I blissfully used a regular cell phone, completely unaware of the whole world of apps. Before we left Virginia on our 10 day trip across the U.S. to our new home in Tijuana, Chris bought me a smart phone, and it easily became an integral part of my life.

"How did I survive without it?" I would often wonder.

That is, until Saturday, when I dropped it, and it's sleek screen shattered into a myriad of unreadable colors, leaving the phone completely unusable. I was horrified. One minute I had held its thin frame firmly in my hand, and the next it lay pitifully on the concrete floor of the garage.

The good news is that we had bought the phone for only one penny when we signed up for a new cross border cell plan. The bad news is that it is going to cost 32,000 pennies to replace it.

The boys aren't keen on sharing their stash with me.

I am suddenly rediscovering how to live without it. It's not even the actual phone part that I miss the most. It's Words with Friends, Facebook, Google Reader, Soduku-- all the apps I use to fill my time and occupy my mind-- that I find myself mourning.

And of course, my phone's tragic demise has coincided with Andrew being sick, which means hours of me holding him with nothing to distract me but Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. My life is so hard.

I'm stealing Chris's i-Pod Touch.

RIP Samsung Captivate