Phone It In

I didn't want it.  And everyone knew it.  I wanted to suffer.  To be a technomartyr.  To live in the Stone Age.  Where people only communicated with each other by grunting and pointing.  Because I think I could actually be pretty good at that.  What I'm not good at is anything that requires a manual. And patience. Time.  Organization. And tender loving care.  So essentially, I'm bad at everything.  But, especially anything with buttons, wires and a charger.

So of course that's why my husband went out and bought me the iphone 6.

My old unsmart, bimbo, barbie phone, died a slow and painful death.  And me constantly complaining about it's slow and painful death was tempting my husband's patience.  Which is really saying something.  Since he's the logical/researchy sort,  he asked someone in the technoliterate field what kind of phone would be best for me.  And when he brought up the i phone and was told "that's for old people who don't know how to navigate a phone", he knew it was 'the one'.  

All I had to do was accept that I lived in the modern world and get a protective case for it.

Which is easier said than done when you're as stubborn and Neanderthalish as I am.  My kids were way more excited about my new phone than me.  Not realizing of course that now that I had a phone with a pass code on it that they'd be locked out.  And I would have privacy from my kids reading all my texts.  Meaning now, my friends and I could now complain about our kids with f-bombs even, via text.  Which is obviously what the medium was intended for.  Venting.   

Except, I'm the world's crappiest texter, even on a world class phone.

It's totally true.  I don't check my texts often.  And even when I do,  I'm famous for mistexting and sending to the wrong recipient.  And in my haste to mistext combined with autocorrect I often look inebriated.  And I DO NOT drunk text.  Ever.  What I don't do is talk on my phone.  And I don't play games or have any apps, besides instagram.  Which I'm on way too often because my new phone has a fantastic camera.  And I LOVE to take pictures because all I need to do is point.  Grunting is optional.  And IG is addictive.  I think it's obvious who's fault this is.  Clearly it's my husband's.  I should call him on it, but that seems like too much work.  So I'm just going to phone this one in and call it a draw.

And this is my Neanderthal approved bamboo case.  Of course I instagramed this photo.
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