Alone and vulnerable

I lost my crutch for dealing with time alone while out in public: my cell phone. Yes, my beloved hot pink Razr* that was last year's birthday gift from The Texan up and died last week. After several days of increasingly frantic battery-jiggling and rebooting, I took it to the TMobile shop near us, where the clerk helpfully informed me that it was dead.

Now, most people would just buy a new phone and be done with it. However, I am rather paralyzed by the buffet of choices. Should I stay with T-mobile? Should I get a crackberry? Is it cheaper for The Texan and me to go on a family plan or keep on our separate cell phone paths?

I'm leaving for a trip in a few weeks back to DC - DC in the hizzouse! - so I need to have some way of communicating with my friends once I'm there. So that would be my deadline, I guess.

In the meantime, I never realized how much I text-message people when out and bored or just play around with the phone. The silence is...frightening. Plus now I have to uber-organize everything before I leave the house since last-minute changes are not an option. And even though the phone is dead, I still carry it around with me. You never know when reincarnation will kick in.

Worst of all, I have been leaving hostile messages on friends' phones, wondering where the hell were they and why weren't they returning my phone calls. Until I realized that they probably were calling my cell phone, not my home phone, and why would they do the latter, as most of them don't have that number. Sorry guys!

* While I hate the fact that companies tend to think, "How can we make this product female-friendly? Slap a coat of pink on it and we're good!", it does tend to work on me. If it's pink and/or sparkly, it's all mine.