That would be me and my IPhone. I don’t like the thing and it knows it. It is, after all, a smart phone. But life these days demands that we have a uniquely intimate relationship with our phones. We’re meant to be phriends, if not lovers.
I phind there to be a certain phrenetism between one’s phone and one’s self. Maybe it’s a phigment of my imagination but it seems the slightest ring, ping, vibration or shudder requires and receives immediate attention. Nothing gets in the way of a phast and speedy response.
I watch others with their phones. They know what to do and how to do it. They keep their phones in their phaces and their phingers at the ready. They are phacile and competent in their mastery. They don’t phlail and phumble as I do. It’s phrustrating for me to be so phar behind the curve.
But I am undeterred.
And so it is, even with great phear and trepidation, that I’m giving the relationship another chance. There are concerns, of course. Will my pheeble attempts continue to be phutile, will I remain phorlorn in my phailure or will I be phortunate enough to phinally conquer the ph…ing thing?