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Cell Phone
Apr. 15th, 2010 11:54 amI have a friend who names all her electronics, which I always thought a bad idea: anthropomorphize your electronics too much, and it's going to be traumatic when they inevitably end up in the garbage.
But this week I lost my cell phone, and now I understand. I searched for it - ransacked my bag because surely it must be there, caught in the seams, wedged into a folder - but it was gone.
So I called my cell phone, in the hopes that a good Samaritan had stumbled across it and offered succor., It rang... and rang... and in my mind's ear I could hear it ringing, disconsolately, with no one to answer its call; it would ring and ring, forgotten, abandoned, pushed off the table in the cafe and kicked absently into the corner, where - in the dark, in air heavy with the chatter of cafe-goers, comforted only by dust bunnies - my cell phone soon would die, alone, believing itself unloved.
Fortunately, these visions did not come to pass. My roommate, blessings be upon her, picked up my forgotten cell phone and delivered it up to our room, and set it gently next to my computer so the electronics could commune.
And I, unworthy though I am of the reunion, tucked my cell phone into its charger, where it slept the sleep of the just. I, meanwhile, sat up: for the cell phone which once was lost, and now is found, deserves to be given a name.
But this week I lost my cell phone, and now I understand. I searched for it - ransacked my bag because surely it must be there, caught in the seams, wedged into a folder - but it was gone.
So I called my cell phone, in the hopes that a good Samaritan had stumbled across it and offered succor., It rang... and rang... and in my mind's ear I could hear it ringing, disconsolately, with no one to answer its call; it would ring and ring, forgotten, abandoned, pushed off the table in the cafe and kicked absently into the corner, where - in the dark, in air heavy with the chatter of cafe-goers, comforted only by dust bunnies - my cell phone soon would die, alone, believing itself unloved.
Fortunately, these visions did not come to pass. My roommate, blessings be upon her, picked up my forgotten cell phone and delivered it up to our room, and set it gently next to my computer so the electronics could commune.
And I, unworthy though I am of the reunion, tucked my cell phone into its charger, where it slept the sleep of the just. I, meanwhile, sat up: for the cell phone which once was lost, and now is found, deserves to be given a name.
