The curse of the cell phone
Yes, I know the world is going to hell in bucket, and I know international affairs are a lot more important than most events in my life, but this one irritated me. Problem is, I can’t blame anyone but myself. Maybe the full moon, but even that’s dubious, at best. [Moon was still in Capricorn at the time.>
A while back, my father had given me a little Handspring Module for counting steps, since I spend a fair amount of my day striding, ambling, meandering around my neighborhoods. I was able to measure the exact mileage, or a very close approximate, for a number of routes I tend to take. Cool. I even took a dive into a neighbor’s pool with the electronic gadget still attached, and it survived the quick dip and chlorine.
I was on my way from the post office, again, to the springs, again, trying to rush and get in some cool water before I had to meet a client, and eat BBQ. I got a call on the phone right before I got to the springs, or right before I went in, so I was – in my defense – distracted, as I was working through some travel issues with my parental units. When we’re going to be where, at what time, which flight, that sort of thing. The parental units are not fond of the Denver airport. Can’t say either way for me – I’ve never seen much of it, just land and hop in a cab. Last I saw of it.
But for them, nothing is easy, and it’s not a lot of fun if there isn’t like, some kind of challenge. Had to get them out of Aspen, to someplace else, and coordinate me and their car getting back to Texas, and this turns into an “issue.” So I hung up, emptied my pockets, dove in right past the “no diving” sign, and floated around in the cold water for a few minutes. Up, off to Green Mesquite, and about the time I arrived, I realized that the little electronic step keeper gadget was no longer attached to my waist.
Someplace in the bottom of the swirling waters of Barton Springs, a little geek endangered species salamander is looking at hacking on a thing that looks like a pager.
As I ruminated on my loss, hey, between my father and me, we both knew it was nothing more than a toy, but one I was getting used to tracking mileage with. Important toy. Told me, earlier this year, when I went 11.96 miles instead of a full 12 I would’ve given myself credit for. Or that one of the four mile loops is really about three and three quarters, not quite full four miles. Yeah, it was keeping me honest.
I was chuckling at that familiar bumper sticker, moments before I realized the gadget was no longer clipped to my waist. The sticker read: “hang up and drive.”
Me? I’m still blaming the cell phone.
