When my phone wasn’t a phone

It’s probably my fault. I definitely jinxed myself.

Sunday morning, I was talking to a friend, and telling her that I have outsourced much of my memory to computers. What haircut should I ask for? It’s on my phone. What size dress shirt do I wear? It’s on my phone. That recipe for cake in a mug I make too often? Phone. The temperature and wattage of the light bulbs in my house so I can easily get replacements? You guessed it… all on my phone.

Now, it’s not actually on my phone. It’s actually in the cloud, using Evernote. Which is great, because it’s on my phone, all my computers, and even other people’s computers if I log in.

Where can I go from your signal? Where can I flee from your presence?

So Sunday afternoon, just hours after boasting about how much of a cyborg I am, I make a note about what light bulbs I need, jump in the car, and take off to the hardware store. Halfway there, my phone locks up, restarts, and won’t connect to the network. 

My phone is no longer a phone. It can’t make calls, it can’t send messages. And most importantly, I can’t access the internet anywhere-everywhere-no-matter-where-I-go. I can’t access my shopping list.

After a few minutes of trying to troubleshoot my phone in the parking lot I give up. So I walk into the store, and look at the shelves blankly. I pick something off the shelf, and think it sounds right. 4 feet long, tube light, LED replacement, great. But what color temperature is it? Is it soft white or cool white?

I have no idea. It’s in the cloud, which I can not reach. I walk out of the store with the wrong light bulb (I can not abide incorrect or mismatched color temperature in my house). And I think back to my earlier conversation.

I know 2 phone numbers- Emily’s and my parents’, since it hasn’t changed since 1987. I don’t need to know any other numbers- computers take care of it for me.

Except when they don’t.

James

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