I turned off the light and went back to bed, the alarm silent and the light show finished. Just when I was getting warm and cozy, it started again. This time, my husband was stirring, so I told him to go take care of his cell phone.
It's new, you see. We're behind the technological times once again and if the decision were up to me, we still wouldn't have a cell phone. Yes, I used one that belonged to a friend during a recent emergency and I was quite happy to have it. But that didn't convince me to buy one. Every time I drive down a familiar scenic road and see another cell phone tower, I cringe and wonder why we have to have everything at our fingertips. Besides that, I don't want to be reachable 24 hours a day. Sometimes, I like silence.
But Jim caved in to a sales pitch, justifying that it would be handy for his work. He does home renovations and repairs, so for most of the day he's usually away from a phone. So I can understand his reasoning. But his good reasons are not the point.
The point is that he's had the phone for little more than 24 hours and it's making him crazy. He says the instruction booklet is the worst he's ever read, and that it must have been written in a foreign country. He finally figured out how to make a call on it, but he's lost when it comes to retrieving voice mail messages. And he accidentally set the alarm to go off some time after midnight.
So he's still reading his manual, pressing buttons and calling me to see how the reception is from Ky. 52 and his sister's house and wherever else he might be. So far, he hasn't accidentally set any more alarms to wake me up after midnight. But if I follow a beeping to another room of the house once again, and the light I see is a color other than blue, I'll know we really are in trouble.
Beth Dotson Brown is a writer and editor in Lancaster whose husband insists she carry the cell phone with her when traveling.|11/2/03***