My phone died yesterday. It was about five years old and archaic. I called Mom, as I was leaving church...I could hear her, but she couldn't hear me. I think I called her once or twice after that. You know, just to verify that something was wrong with:
a.) her phone
b.) my phone
Nothing like scaring your poor Mom half-to-death.
Then I called my father on his cell phone. Same problem. Only Dad is more aggressive and called me about 8 times. Just kidding, Dad! maybe
I sped home so that I could intercept him from my house phone and make him stop calling my broken cell.
That evening, Jason took me to the store and bought me this hunk of burning love:
I am now living in the land of Apps, texting and music.
I have been very busy learning how to use this phone.
My thumb is tired.