by JO ABI
My life has slowly started to revolve around my smart phone. I first realised I had a problem when I brought my smart phone to bed with me. I set up my nest of blankets and lovingly placed my smart phone under my pillow (secretly so my husband couldn’t see it was there). I switched it on silent. My hand rested on it until I started to drift to sleep.
I woke up the next day, stretched my arms over my head and excitedly remembered that my smart phone was with me. The first thing I did was check Twitter. Over six hundred followers – yes. I checked the weather, posted a comment on Facebook about the weather, read a couple of pages of a book I had upload and eventually rolled out of bed to get the kids ready for school.
My husband has felt resentful of my smart phone for a while now. We used to snuggle up in front of the TV watching shows together. Now I lay back on my own, tapping away. “What are you doing on that thing,” he demanded. “Twittering,” I told him. “About what,” he said. “Everything,” I responded. “Have you ever Twittered about me,” he asked. “No,” I lied.
In fact, I can’t watch TV without my smart phone. No longer happy to just yell at the TV, I post comments like….PATRICK IS AN IDIOT FOR BREAKING UP WITH NINA or OH GOOD ALICIA MIGHT GET BACK TOGETHER WITH PETER. I commented that PRICKLY PEARS TASTE REALLY NICE, during Masterchef and that was all in one night. It’s unhealthy and ridiculous. I need an intervention.
I pay my bills on my smart phone. I work on my smart phone. I shop on my smart phone. I diagnose medical issues on my smart phone. I offered to pay a bill for my dad on my smart phone once. He looked at me like I’d kicked the dog. He still walks up to the post office to pay his bills.