Please don't take my crappy cell phone away from me!

My technological prowess stops somewhere between the invention of the wheel and that of the cotton gin.  Everything else, I put under one of two categories:

1. It’s magic and I like it.
2. It’s a curse on my existence and I want it to go away. 

My enthusiasm for changing anything I have is comparable to that of a prisoner during the Spanish Inquisition being told that a revolutionary new torture rack has been invented that will speed up the torture process and do less harm to the rotator cuff of the torturer.

Enter Now Husband Dan (NHD) with a swell idea: “Let’s get new cell phones!” 

NHD then fails to notice that I refuse to say anything or to make eye contact with him.  Based on this, he begins to email me mind-numbing data on all the various models of cell phones that Verizon sells.  I refuse to open any of the attachments.  My reaction gets so bad, in fact, that I begin to fantasize about spending my time living in a cave and weaving. 

The emails don’t stop.  NHD is now in his favorite place beside the boat and bed: Technology World.  He starts yelling to me from his study:

“Come see this model!” 

“Wow! Take a look at this one! It has 3G! ”

“Do you want a qwerty keyboard?” Finally this gets a response from me.

“I will not discuss words that begin with the letter ‘q’ or anything that beings with a number.”  I am also prepared to eliminate the entire alphabet, if necessary. 

He entices me with all the new features I can have.  I shoot down each one.  He saves the best for last: “We can text!”  Great.  This is comparable to someone trying to sell me a car by saying, “This car can swerve around mountain roads on two wheels!” 

I slink into bed, pull the covers over my head, and eventually the Messages From Technology Central get fewer and farther between, then cease entirely.  I fall asleep and have nightmares about Technical Support. 

This morning, NHD announces that “one of us has to stay home today to refuse a package.” Since this is the opposite of what I usually do (Order something, wait for it, gleefully accept it), I ask why.  NHD explains: 

“I ordered us two fabulous phones that do everything we want (I don’t remember saying I wanted anything) but then you said you don’t want another phone with a trackball, so I tried to cancel the order but it was too late so now we have to be home to refuse the package.” 

The trackball was merely one of a number of features I told NHD I didn’t want.  Others included a screen and a keyboard.  Apparently I was successful in squashing his dreams of cell phone upgrade.  As soon as I realized that, I felt really bad.  So bad, in fact, that I quickly reversed my position and declared that we shuld accept the new phones.  It’s that push-pull thing with me that started in junior high.  Boy likes me so I don’t like him.  Boy ignores me so I develop a mad crush on him.  Now I have The Boy, so I’m doing it with cell phones. 

NHD has just entered the room.  He says, “I’m thinking the new phone is perfect for you, but it really isn’t good for me.  I’ll just keep my old one.  But you will love your new phone.”  I’ve suddenly become one of the cast members of “Lost,” still on the island, watching the others leave.  But unlike them, I can’t go back to 1970.