Yesterday Bryan and I drove to Asheville to see his sister Abby’s new baby. She’s just like a tiny snoozy angel, see?
I had Abby’s husband Kevin take this picture of me (which I then Instragrammed and Facebooked, naturally, which is why it still exists [foreshadowing!]). I then put my phone in my back pocket and went into the bathroom… you can probably the guess the rest, but I’ll tell you anyway. My phone ended up in the toilet.
This has happened to a lot of people I know, but It’s never happened to me before. It reminds me, however, of the time I ran into a gas station bathroom in Sweetgrass, Montana with my keys in my hand, pulled down my pants, and stabbed myself in the hip with the pocket knife I kept on my keychain. I still have a scar. And I no longer keep a knife on my keychain.
I doubt this experience is going to scar me, but it has given me some things to think about. On the way back from Asheville last night, I kept reaching for my phone: to get directions, to text the friend who was looking after Odessa, to check in on my grandmother, to see how many people FACEBOOKLIKE(!)™’ed a picture of me and this week-old baby.
But yesterday was Bryan and my wedding anniversary–our 6th one. And so instead of taking care of business on the drive home, we just talked. It wasn’t the best talk we’ve ever had, and it wasn’t the worst. I honestly can’t remember that much about the content, but I do remember he congratulated me on my continued ability to read a paper map and I conceded that I talk about astrology too much. We read a little bit of Mark Twain’s Personal Recollections of Joan of Arc before I got too sleepy and napped for a few minutes while Bryan drove down the White Horse Road, listening to a baseball game on the radio to stay awake.
It was an entirely unremarkable experience, is what I’m saying. But it was maybe a little bit remarkable in that Bryan and I were both there, in that car, on our anniversary, with only each other to talk to. I wasn’t even able to look at my calendar to see what I had to do today.
At any rate, we eventually made it to our friend’s house, picked up Odessa, and drove home. I got in the shower and decided something while I washed my hair: I’m going to see if I can go 4 days without a phone. Somebody on the Internet says I need to leave my wet one in a bag of dry rice for that long before I try turning it on. And if it doesn’t work, I can get a new phone for 30 bucks–no bigs. But I just want to see what it’s like not to have a phone for a little while.
So, if you want to talk to me before Thursday, email me! Come find me at work! Write me a paper letter! Telegraph to me! Arrange a chance meeting on my Monday afternoon walk down Pulaski St. Give Odessa a note to give to me. Toss rocks at my bedroom window and then serenade me!
This is going to be fun, right?