The universe works in mysterious ways, and this time it worked in such a way that had me forgetting about my cell phone taking up residence in my back pocket last Friday night during our Full Card Friday at Velvet. And so, into the bar toilet my phone accidentally went (and don't worry, I'm a germaphobe. That phone has been thoroughly disinfected, cleaned, and had its demons exorcised.).
There wasn't much I could do, as I had to finish my night, but by the time I got home I freaked out a bit. I was too stupid to know that you're not supposed to test the phone to see if it works, so I did. And it worked for a second, then died. So into the rice it went - whole grain Minute Rice, for you foodies who hate the crap I eat.
It stayed in that rice for three days. Three long, disconnected days.
I still had the internet at home, yes. But not having access to anything on my phone was a strange, unnerving feeling. I couldn't receive calls. I couldn't text. I couldn't do work from my phone while riding on the TTC, and I couldn't be sure that all of my 3.6 bajillion photos would be retrievable. What if it was permanently broken? Oh, the panic.
And all of this made me feel stupid.
We're all pretty damn lucky to have the kind of technology and comforts we have. Losing my phone to a cellular swim gone wrong was not a life or death situation, and yet I panicked. I wasn't isolated - I had the internet. I had ways of communicating with people.
After the three days of cocooning in rice, I was happy to find that my phone worked again. It was a relief, yes. A lot of my job depends on my phone.
But since then? I find that I check my phone less. I don't need it at my side every second. So, in a very odd way, I thank my own stupidity and the seemingly-clean bar toilet. They helped me to disconnect.