After eons of “i want one of those. i don’t need one. i’m not paying that much. but i want one.”, the price came down.
The contract was finally up.
Spurs Fan and the Brother were both sick listening to me wonder and pine.
It was time.
We are no longer the only house without a smartphone in it. It’s the most basic model currently available; so ancient that it was hidden in the storeroom. Too passé to be brazenly out on the shop floor; a dusty little secret. Only the trusty internet told me it still existed.
i marched into the scary techy shop and announced exactly what i wanted. No huge up- front payment. A monthly contract only a little more expensive than the one i’d been on. The world in my pocket.
Girl1 and Girl2 are very excited. (If you have a fancy gizmo that lets you magnify print, then go back and make that last sentence as big as you can- that’s how excited they are.) It was like we’d snuck in an extra Christmas. They
followed me around stuck to me like limpets all evening, showing off expertise gained from friends’ toys. “What’s your phone doing now?” “um, nothing. It’s just a phone.” Gasps of horror. They know it’s not just a phone; it’s the vehicle they use to play Angry Birds and Temple Run.
Even Spurs Fan, luddite of this parish, was impressed. “Oh, it gets emails! How much was it? Could I get one of those?” He wasn’t asking permission, just making sure there isn’t a law forbidding too much technology in an average sized house.
It’s just the start, isn’t it?