I do not like phones.  Phones are for emergencies, for making dates, appointments or reservations, keeping in touch with people that live far far away, and ordering pizza (which I get someone else to do).  A usual conservation with me on the phone will go, “Hi. Do you have time? Great I’ll meet you in 10 minutes”. That conversation will happen using a telephone.  The kind that is wired to a jack AND has a corded handset.  My son becomes disgruntled with me and my stubborn resistance to the modern technology that is the mobile phone.  What it really boils down to is I just don’t understand.  Why would I want one?  They are expensive, fragile, quickly out of date.  More often than not reception is spotty, and I cannot hear what the person is saying because of static, dropping out, or it is garbled.  Then there are the times it just cuts off completely.  Why would I want to spend all my time on the phone, not being able to hear what is being said, not aware of what is around me,  wherever, whenever, when I can talk to the perfectly awesome available people around me?

But alas, I have to temporarily step down from my anti-phone pedestal.  I am soon heading out on an adventure that requires me to be connected mobile-wise.

I headed to the dreaded mall to activate a defunct phone donated many years previously.  I faced the kiosk of technical wizards and placed my offering in their capable hands.  When asked all the questions that are important to those that want to retain that sort of information, I waved my hand over the foreign device of electronic servitude and said make it work very briefly, then make it so it stops working shortly after.  My mobile phone illiterateness being acknowledged, the powers that knew attempt to fill me in with the information.  The poor soul realized very quickly that all the information he was telling me was bouncing off my ‘I don’t care, just make it work’ special force field.  He performed his magic, I signed on the dotted line, and I wander off on my merry way.