Cell Phoned

I went to the doctor the other day. And before I even went back to the examination room, I felt naked. Why? Because I had, somehow, forgotten my cell phone and left it at home.

Why was I feeling naked without my cell phone?!? For many years of my life, I never had a cell phone with me. I didn’t even own a cell phone to take with me.

I don’t even really like to talk on the phone a lot – I never have. I definitely enjoy talking, and I talk on the phone when I need to. But I prefer face-to-face conversation whenever possible. And I get very aggravated when I’m with other people and they decide it’s more important to take a call on their cell phone than to talk to me or enjoy the activity in which we’re involved.

In fact, I have felt very disdainful and superior toward people who immediately check their cell phone after leaving a play, or church, or a movie, or any other activity where they couldn’t answer the phone. People walking around everywhere with a cell phone stuck to the ear. Or, even worse, a cell phone receiver hooked over the ear. Eeeeewwwww!

Of course, I had to analyze my reaction to the missing cell phone. That’s what I do. I analyze. And I concluded that my dependency on having my cell phone with me is a natural and acceptable fear of being caught in a desperate situation (car breaks down, accident, etc.) where I need to call for help. Knowing I have a cell phone with me helps to allay that fear.

Yeah, right! Right then I realized – I have become cell phoned. That’s my new word (2 words?) for cell phone dependency. I am dependent on my cell phone. Not on making calls, or receiving calls, or texting, or anything else one can do with a cell phone.

I am dependent on knowing that I have that cell phone in my possession and within my reach.

I guess I won’t be feeling so pompous from now on. I am – officially – cell phoned!

About grandawn

I live in Stillwater, Oklahoma, USA. I have three wonderful grandchildren. I am a teacher, writer, actor, singer. . . and whatever else I can manage.
This entry was posted in Aging & Changing, The Good Old Days and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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