My iPhone has died.
It's a disaster on the same scale as the great Wispa shortage of 2008.
What's more worrying is that I actually felt a huge wave of panic when it dawned on me that I was going to be without that valuable lump of plastic for a few days. Seriously, I'm talking a million thoughts running through my head in way too short a space of time, like 'ohmygodwhatifsuchandsuchcalls' - the lack of space indicates that I didn't breathe either.
I've calmed down now, sort of.
Fingers crossed by 7pm on Saturday I'll once again be in possession of my hypothetical left arm, and life will once again be filled with mobile Viber, Facebook and Whatsapp. Phew.
It has got me thinking though, maybe it's just me and really I'm overthinking this completely, but the mass panic I felt for a split second is quite worrying. I mean, what did we do before mobile phones and social networking? We actually spoke to people face to face, do we do that much nowadays?
I suppose I'm at a bit of a disadvantage as a lot of the people I "speak" to on a daily basis aren't in face to face distance, be it a nearby town or halfway across Europe, so for that I have a good excuse, but my reaction was a tad extreme in hindsight. My first thought was that it would be sod's law that in the couple of days I was incommunicable, a message I've been waiting for beyond hope for a month now would appear and get lost in the ether of broken phones. It's not gonna happen, but it would be just my bloody luck for it to happen right at that moment.
I'm ever hopeful, you can't ever accuse me of pessimism.
So now I've stopped hyperventilating, I can concentrate, albeit with a slightly shaky hand thanks to going cold turkey from my beautiful sparkly, pink, phone, on my upcoming weekend. This weekend I will actually have a life. Yes, one of those things that everyone else seems to have but I only find occasionally. I think they call it a social life, but I can't be sure because it evades me somewhat.
My friend is visiting from Norway so I will be venturing out of the house and not returning until after curfew on not one, but two nights. Yes, I know, I'm a rebel. I also fully intend to get completely trollied on overpriced vodka, simply because I can. Yes, I know, I don't drink in this country, I save that gem for getting high-pitched in Turkey, but I ain't going easternly for another 8 weeks and this girl needs to be numb, forget, and to feel good for a few hours at least. There's been a few too many tears lately for my liking, it's time to smile a little, for one weekend at least - before I go back to being friend-less because everyone from the 'Shire has abandoned me.
Happy days.
No comments:
Post a Comment
If you like what you read, even if you don't (but please be nice), have any questions or generally feel like being sociable, please comment!