I used to pity the husbands of women who blog. Generally these guys find themselves the topic of discussion on a regular basis. But now I realize it’s their own fault-- if you don’t want to appear in a blog, stop providing so much fodder, right?
This morning Bob showed me a new phone I could switch to for free, available in five different colors. I asked, already knowing the answer, if it would require reading an instruction book and learning a whole new system.
I guess we define freedom in different ways. Bob is thinking free, as in free of monetary charge. I am thinking, is there any limit to the money I would pay for freedom from having to learn how to work a new gizmo?
I know the entire rest of the world sees cell phones as toys. I know they jump in with both feet when they hear about a new app or a new trick their toy can do.
I cringe. I want my pencils back.
I have three girlfriends who have offered to show me all the exciting features of my iPhone. Their eyes light up at the idea. St. Bob is the same way. Technology entices these people and they can’t wait for the next doo-dah to come along. They like strolling through Best Buy the way I like strolling through a bakery or a fabric store.
The other day I had to go into an Apple store and told the woman it was the first time I had ventured in there by myself. She high-fived me.
I do know how to text, take pictures, use my microphone, and—okay that’s pretty much it. I do not play music, watch videos, look at maps, read the paper, or store my boarding pass on there.
This morning I asked Bob what the weather forecast was. “Why don’t you look it up on your phone?” he asked.
“Because I have you,” I said. “You’re my iBob.” He is a well of other information, too—directions to anywhere, a summary of the latest breaking news, movie reviews, jokes, and can even sing whatever tune I feel like hearing. I simply have to ask. Hey—maybe this is where the word, thingamabob came from.
All I know is that the man puts Siri to shame. So why should I get a new cell phone?
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