It was a fairly extraordinary day really. Mr S and I were off on a short hike whilst our girls had a play with their BFF, Lemonthyme (not her real name, unfortunately!). Mr S and I hiked through ice and snow on our local beautiful mountain, Mount Wellington/kunyani in Hobart.
We returned to pick up the girls and as we were leaving I couldn't find my phone. Mildly panicked I began a search and I found it. Under a bag. That was housing a leaky drink bottle. Oh my stars.
But, it was fine. Turned on again, I made a call, I was called, I sucked some water out of it, I lovingly dried it off. I half heartedly accepted a bag of rice for the drive home thinking that I wouldn't need it. A few blocks in, Siri started trying to call people, including my deceased father. (Not that I wouldn't have been happy to speak to him... then I'd be converted to Siri forever!) I tried to turn it off, but the home button wasn't working, then Lady P (aged 2) lost her dummy, it was dark in the car, I dropped the phone somewhere in the car, DMM (aged 4) wanted a drink, it was dark in the car and I could hear my phone saying 'Sure, CALLING ANNA S NOW'.
The car was pulled over by Mr S. Phone was located and switched off. Peace was restored to the back seat. I was without a lifeline. I tried to turn it on the following morning (I know, I know) and still nothing.
After a tense day I began to realise how lovely it was being uncontactable. I enjoyed the mental peace and quiet so much. I enjoyed actually speaking to people (namely, my family). I pulled out my old iPhone for the wifi based apps, and even then I found it remarkably easy to turn it off. The following day I found out a basic rule of adulthood.
If you can't afford to replace it, insure it.
Guess what? I HAD INSURED IT. Confetti. Sparklers.
Except... I didn't think I wanted another super expensive tiny fragile computer in my pocket phone again. If not, then what?
I went to town the next day sans communication. It felt remarkably weird and a bit gross, in a self indulgent twenty first century way. However, I survived with flying colours. We didn't die on the road, I didn't need to call someone in an emergency and NO ONE CALLED ME.
I had a beautiful morning with DMM involving swimming, coffee dates, conversation, skipping through the city centre and cuddles. Perfectly lovely. My phone number was switched back to my old iPhone at the same time.
Later that day I mentioned to Mr S that my number was working again.
'I guessed that.' he said 'You've been staring at it all afternoon.'
Ugh. I was so defensive because I realised he was probably right.
That evening I talked it through with myself (Mr S unfortunately has to listen to these talking-it-through conversations, just makes comforting sounds until I stop talking, bless him) and realised that I don't want another distracting life-toy.
Insurance claim is being sorted, whereupon I have decided I'll purchase an iPod touch for my business/blog/faffing about needs and a super basic cheap bombproof/replaceable smartphone.
Right now I feel free. Just like we did ten years ago. Oh, the irony.
Fast forward a week or so, the insurance claim has gone through with a few hitches, but it went through. My insurer was confused as to why I wouldn't want another iPhone, and they were initially unwilling to give me the cash that was owed to me. After a few more explanations and some hoop jumping (I suspect I even held my tongue at a particular angle) they agreed to deposit the balance of my insurance into my bank account. As is my legal right.
I began the period of time I refer to as The Research, where I spent my spare time being thoroughly confused about the ins and outs of Android phones vs Windows phones vs iPhones. So many choices! I realised that this very reason was why I loved iPhones. NO CHOICE.
Another rule of adulthood:
Sometimes no choice is the best choice of all.
This week I went for a drive, deliberately went to shop with little choice, found there were still too many choices, but made a simple quick choice. I'm now the proud owner of a Sony Xperia 4g phone. It wins no design awards, the camera isn't as nice as my iPhone 5s, but then I remember that it's also $600 cheaper. So all things considered, that's fine by me.
I don't really know how to use it that well, and an exasperated Mr S said to me last night 'Why do you keep saying that? Just read the manual.' 'It didn't come with one! And, I kind of like not knowing how to use it.' 'Well PLEASE stop talking about it then.'
Touche, Mr S. Touche. I realised that I keep talking about it because it's such a novelty to have no idea how to use a different phone. Lunacy, isn't it? I've since made a list of things I want to know how to do with it and looked them up. Just like a big person.
So there you have it. My journey to a life of a phone on Airplane mode is in full swing. If you need me, you can ring me on my landline. I know. I still have one of those.
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