Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Do Cell Phones Have Fewer or More Lives Than Cats?

My phone.  My poor, poor phone.  At this point I feel like anytime I'm in a cell phone store or even walk past one of those kiosks filled with phones, the poor little electronic dears all try to blend in with their surroundings as much as possible so as not to attract my attention, and if I actually reach out to one, they cringe and shudder as my fingers draw near.  Actually, the scene that plays in my head is that one from Who Framed Roger Rabbit where the bad guy (what was his name?) has ahold of that sweet animated shoe and is slowly lowering it into The Dip.  I don't know if I'm The Dip or the bad guy, though.  Probably both, in the case of cell phones. 

My poor, battered phone.  In the last month, it's been dropped (countless times, but most notably in the checkout line at Target, and although I wasted no time in picking up the back cover and the bulk of the phone and fitting them back together, it wasn't until a college girl standing in line behind me tapped on my shoulder and handed me the battery that I realized I maybe shouldn't be allowed to own a cell phone-by the way, thanks, College Girl at Target!  You're a peach!), bathed in milk (technically this one wasn't my fault, but I really should know better than to allow my phone to be anywhere near our children at lunchtime), and run over.  By me.  In our van.

I had taken Cade and baby J out to the van to go pick Atticus up from preschool when my phone apparently slid unnoticed from my coat pocket to the ground directly behind our van.  We left, retrieved Atticus, then came back.  I had unloaded all the boys when I noticed my phone, lying in the snow behind one of the rear wheels of the vehicle, with dirty tire tracks across its face.  

It was in perfect working order.  

Thankfully, we have a gravel driveway and that day, a fresh layer of snow every half hour or so; when I picked the phone up, it left a perfect cell phone-shaped indentation in the snow, which no doubt saved it.  It was also cold enough out that all the ice and snow on it didn't get a chance to melt but could be brushed right off.  It also proves that we were wise in choosing a phone for me that got good reviews for its "indestructibility."  Keep in mind, this is not a smart phone.  I think I've proven- just in this post alone- that I'm not to be trusted with anything that's both electronic and expensive.

At this point, I'm just thankful all the keys still work on this one; I spent more than a year without the ability to use any of the keys on the first or third rows on the keyboard on my old phone, which are surprisingly necessary when texting.  They may or may not have stopped working after being dropped in water for the third time in a week.

If I ever do get a smart phone (I don't want one at this point; nothing good could come of it), I'm comforted by the knowledge that I can encase it in Kevlar.  I know this because that's what my mom has done with her phone.  My Olympic-level ability to drop and otherwise destroy things?  Pretty sure it's genetic. 


  1. That's a pretty miraculous thing, that you could drive right over your cell phone and it would still work afterwards.

    Dropping things as an Olympic sport? My family wants to be in on this competition!

    Charlotte's Web has taught us that the only thing that should be bathed in milk is a pig.

  2. I am really amazed that I haven't broken my phone yet. Each time I drop it, I'm stunned that it still works :-)

  3. :) please don't jinx me as my smart phone has somehow survived me for a little over a year now. That in spite of my dropping it outside and the dog discovering it and carrying it to her bone-chewing-spot!


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