Friday, July 5, 2013

On growing a new limb

One of my dear friends is about to come home from a two year mission. I was thinking about my life; the things that had changed and the important updates too long to put in an email.

One that immediately came to mind is the acquiring of a new limb known as my iPhone. It has become such a part of me I literally feel anxious when it is even in a different part of the house. I would also feel anxious if my finger or ear were in a different part of the house.

Is my phone chained to me, or am I chained to my phone?
This concept was reinforced last night when driving home from Massachusetts. We stopped at a rest area, and on my way to the rest room I remember thinking, "I shouldn't have left my phone in the car, now I'm going to have to wait in a line/wait for someone to come out with no pleasant distractions". I happened to be wearing my small pocket shorts (bane of my existence), so I couldn't have stuffed my otterbox protected limb inside.

Just asking for trouble
So my bathroom trip was rather boring without my phone. I came back to the car and we left. A few minutes later I had this eerie feeling, like I was missing something. I dug through my purse, took off my seatbelt and crawled around the suburban, demanded that my brother use the flashlight on his phone to help, asked my mom to call mine, only to conclude that my newest limb was certainly not in the car.

We pulled over and continued the search and I decided it had to be in the parking lot of that rest area. My parents thought that was doubtful--did I take it inside? No definitely not, because I remember wanting it inside.

If you've ever driven the freeway in New England, you know that exits only crop up about every 20 miles. This is unfortunate for two people in particular: those with small bladders, and those that need to turn around. We spent 40 minutes and paid $5 in tolls to finally reach the rest area. During that trip, my mother texted my phone with the quaint message "you have found my phone! Call this number: (her number)." And sure enough, some kind soul had found it. But no, not in the parking lot. 

They found it in the bathroom.

It's been 12 hours now and I am still disturbed by this. The fact that I was wishing my phone was with me when it was in my hand.

The only way I can take peace of mind from this is that you don't notice a limb...unless it's missing. I don't think about my pinky toe on a daily basis despite it's necessity to my balance. However, if it were suddenly chopped off by a wayward knife or crushed by a car, I would certainly notice it. 

So it's official. My little/big otterbox encased iPhone is a part of me. 

No comments:

Post a Comment