Mark's Christmas present arrived today. It's an iphone 5s. It's okay that I'm writing about it here, Mark is the one who told me to get it, and if it isn't under the tree on Christmas morning I'd never hear the end of it. The phones Mark and I have now are about four years old. For a cell phone that is ancient. It became apparent that we needed new phones the evening Mark dropped his in a bar toilet. It has had piss poor reception ever since. I never have liked the phone I've been using for the last four years. It has a touch screen that when I touch it, because of my fat fingers, the wrong thing always happens. I've called Puerto Rico by accident at least three times. It's also hard to see the screen with my bad eyesight. When the phone rings, by the time I put on my glasses and figure out which way to slide the 'unlock' thingy and answer it, most of my calls go to voice mail. I have hated my cell phone since the day I got it, so when I ordered a new one for Mark I also ordered one for me.
No, not the iphone 5s, not any iphone nor smart phone. I went back in time and got myself one of those old timey cell phones with the big buttons for dialing and a simple screen that tells me what number is being dialed, or who is calling me. Nothing else. It doesn't have apps, it doesn't talk to me, I can't take a photo with it, and I cannot play Candy Crush. I can only call and be called. It feels so good to be back in the twentieth century again, when times were simpler, and technology hadn't yet turned young people into texting zombies, when people actually talked to each other in bars.