I’ll be out of cell phone range
Love will drag me kicking and screaming into the 21st century. Or not.I was quite possibly the last person on the face of the Earth or at least on U.S. soil – OK, in Aspen – to own a telephone answering machine. And I only bought it because I thought I might get a date with someone of interest to me at the time, and I didn’t want to risk missing the call that never came.Now I need to replace it because the number 7 on the phone is barely functional, and my new love interest’s number contains that particular digit – twice. See, this is the problem with telecommunications upgrades. I’ll bet the number 7 never died on anybody’s rotary phone.So I was contemplating the big move to a cordless phone – another incremental step out of the technological Stone Age – so that I could stray more than four feet from my telephone, possibly allowing me to multitask,when you-know-who suggested I get a cell phone.My alarm was palpable. Not owning a cell phone has long been a point of pride for me, sort of like never having set foot in the state of Florida. Now I’m being enticed by the unlimited minutes of the friends and family plan (aka the long-distance romance plan). Oh well, it’s better than paying Qwest for the privilege of giggling for an hour on the phone every night.Plus I’m secretly intrigued by the opportunity to own one of those cool phones where the top flips up, like a communicator on Star Trek. Frankly, I’m a little miffed that the cell phone is the only space-age device that actually panned out, even if I can’t call Scotty to beam me up with it. Where’s my jet-propulsion pack, dammit?It turns out I’m not getting one of the cool phones, just the standard little phone designed to confound stubby fingers and ring with an annoying tune. I wonder if I can get it to play the theme from Star Trek.No doubt it will come with an overwhelming host of features I can’t figure out how to use. Text messaging? Speed dial? Voice command functions and pager capabilities?Isn’t it enough that I know how to program my VCR?Apparently, the phone comes with a “leash,” which is fitting, since the whole point of the cell phone is not really to free you from your land line but to shackle you to a phone 24/7.Still, when the significant other mentioned “charging my leash,” I had a momentary vision of something else entirely before it occurred to me this had something to do with the phone, not a credit card purchase at a kinky shop on Colfax.Anyway, sometime today, I will be the recalcitrant owner of a cell phone. Don’t try to call me on it. I won’t be at home, but it will.Janet Urquhart isn’t giving out her number. Her email is firstname.lastname@example.org
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