Yes, folks, it has happened. I have a cell phone.
I know that I promised I would never own one. I know that I hate them on general principles, and hate them more every time I see some moron driving with the cell phone pressed against his or her ear. Equally annoying is when people use the cell in a grocery store to ask their S/O "what do you want for dinner?" or something equally trivial.
It's not that I am a luddite; after all, I have a state-of-the-art laptop computer, a mp3 jukebox, a minidisc recorder, and other assorted gadgets. I just feel that I don't have a pressing need to be available 24/7. My family knows that the easiest way to contact me is via e-mail, since my land line is tied up by my internet connection.
In any case, due to a convergence of several personal issues, I have succumbed to the lure, and am now the (not-so-proud) owner of a little bitty cell phone, all 3.1 ounces of it. It has a bunch of nifty features that I will never use, and it comes with a 143 page instruction manual that I will never read all the way through. I've figured out the important things—how to make a call, how to turn it off, and how to change the incredibly annoying ring (it sounds like a bloody calliope on lithium). Anything else is superfluous.
Somehow, I am sure that I will regret this.
posted on July 13, 2003 10:08 PM
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