Addictions

You should know that as I write this I am eating a bowl of Ben & Jerry's Late Night Snack. 

It is not late night. Nor is it a snack. It's more like lunch. Late lunch.

The good news is that I have downgraded from consuming the entire pint in one sitting. 

And after days of feeling completely uninspired to blog I finally have a post that can write itself.

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Addictions.

Alright. Go ahead and admit it. We all have them, right? And for some of us, not just a few.
I have one. And everyone around here knows what it is.

My iPhone.

True. Blue. Addiction.

And if you have an iPhone you know what I'm saying here.

But it's not just an addiction, it is my life. In a very, very lovely 4.5 inch by 2.31 inch by 0.37 inch package.
It pretty much does everything but wash the dishes and take out the trash. Which is about all a girl could ever want, right? So it stands to reason that it goes with me everywhere.

Well, today my iPhone accompanied me to the doctor's office.
This was super great for keeping me distracted while I waited in the exam room for the doctor to show up.
But as soon as he walked in the door it was all downhill.

First, I didn't have a chance to put the phone back in my purse before he came in. So I just sat it on the exam table beside me.

This was a Very Bad Idea. Because iPhones refuse to be ignored. And it did not sit in silence.

So I watched,
and wiggled,
and squirmed,
and bit my lip,
and clenched my fists,
and tried with all my might to keep from completely popping out of my skin
while my iPhone buzzed....
and buzzed...
and buzzed.

Right there. By my leg.
Texts.
And more texts.
And phone calls.
And email.
My lifeline to the outside world.

I could hear it.
I could see it.
I could feel it.
But I couldn't touch it.

I am quite certain I did not hear one word the doctor said between, "So what brings you in today?" and "Just take this slip back to lab and they'll take care of you."

The lab? Really? THE LAB! I have never before heard such welcome words! This meant escape. I could take the phone with me and catch up on the texts that were screaming my name. Yay!

So I grabbed it. And stuffed it in my back pocket.

(You should know I left my purse. I know what really matters.)

The lab lady pointed me to the ladies room.
For a urine sample.
Ew. I know. Overshare.
But stay with me, because this part is important.

I hate giving urine samples. There is no good way to do this. The list of things you have to do to prepare for it is really overwhelming. And trust me. You do not want to get this wrong and have to start over. It is all kinds of distracting to the fact that you have an iPhone in your back pocket.

So I did my thing.
And then I stood up.

And then I heard it.


Plop!

Connect the dots here and replay that sound with me.


Plop!

You should know that I did not drop my iPhone in the toilet.
I would never do anything so careless.
Nope.
It leapt.
Yes, leapt. (It's a word. I looked it up.)
My iPhone leapt out of my back pocket.


And into the toilet.


AAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Never in a million years did I imagine it would be so easy to stick my arm into tinted toilet water!!
But I didn't even hesitate.
And my hand moved.
FAST.

I grabbed the phone.
I dried it off.
I washed my hands. Thoroughly.
I grabbed extra paper towels.
I headed back the exam room.

And then I started to panic.
The phone had power but I couldn't get past the home screen.
I saw my life flash before my eyes.

What would I do without my contacts?
Or my calendar?
Or my email?
Or my Facebook?
Or my Google maps?
Or All.  Those.  Apps?

There was only one thing to do. I had to have my phone. 

So I shook it. Hard. 

You know, to shake out the...eh...moisture. 

And little droplets flew everywhere. 

I don't think this is the most sanitary idea for a doctor's office. 

Or any office, really. 

But I was desperate.

Then I blew as hard as I could into every crevice possible to try and get out the rest of the...eh...moisture. 

And voila! 

No luck. 

A home screen I still couldn't get past.

And by then the doctor returned.

Here's what you should know about my doctor.
He is not just a doctor.
He is a therapist.
And a philosopher.
And a conversationalist.

And he talked...
And talked...
And talked.

And I squirmed,
and wiggled,
and sighed.

I have never been so anxious to leave the doctor's office in all my life!!
I just wanted a chance to get my phone back.
And the minutes were ticking away.

Aaaaack!!

And now I am home. Writing this post. And patiently waiting.

This is my phone after the toilet plunge.

This is my phone now.

In a bag of rice.

It worked for Kid Middle's phone after it took a plunge in her bubble bath. So maybe it will work for mine. I have no idea how long this will take. It took 48 hours for hers.

The Man has suggested that I get a new SIM card and use my old Blackberry while I wait for revival. I'm going to have to do this. I mean, texting is the only way I know my kids are still alive. But I can't do it forever. Because anyone with an iPhone knows that there is no going back. Ever. 

Dictionary.com says that cessation of an addiction causes severe trauma. 

I am here to tell you it's true! This is traumatic!

So if you see me cursing at my Blackberry over the next couple of days months 

you will know the rice didn't work. 

And I am not over my addiction.

More Ben & Jerry's while I wait? Don't mind if I do.