I did something veeeeery stupid the other day. I flushed my iPhone down the toilet.
This was not my finest moment.
You see, I went to the pub earlier that afternoon with Mr Maybe for a celebratory weekend drink. It was a weekend “date night” so I was attempting to channel Keira Knightley by wearing skinny jeans (which acted like a corset around my bladder) and my new “What? This? I just threw it on..” of-the-shoulder jumper top. This meant that after a couple of pints of ‘Orchard Pig’ and a leisurely, romantic autumn stroll around the village I had abandoned Mr Maybe in order to speed walk back to the flat at warp speed. As I had intentionally left the house without my HUGE kitchen-sink handbag, my phone was now in my back pocket instead. After all, I reasoned, Keira Knightley probably doesn’t carry around a huge cavernous handbag filled with swiss army knives, 12 different kinds of lip gloss and emergency toilet paper – so why should I?
I never put my phone in my back pocket, it lives in my handbag at all times lest it be stolen by passing thieves or vagrants. Or I do something extra stupid like… oh I don’t know… drop it down the toilet??!
At first I didn’t realise my phone had just slipped out of my back pocket and completed an acrobatic swan dive into the lavvy – which makes it all the more awful. Precious seconds ticked away as I flushed, washed my hands then realised that there was something dark still in the loo. Which was odd. I peered into the murky depths. And here it was. Like Sir John Everett Millais’s depiction of Ophelia drowning. Only in iPhone form at the bottom of the toilet bowl.
As I have OCD it’s a very rare thing that will make me willingly stick my hand down a toilet bowl without even thinking about it. This was one of those occasions. Sadly, I was too late. My little friend was dead. We had been together for 28 months – or, two and a bit years. That’s longer than my relationship with Mr Maybe! As a testament to this, I went through the seven stages of grief in the following half hour.
- Shock – “AAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!”
- Denial – “No… It’s not dead. It’ll be okay. It’s just a bit wet that’s all…”
- Anger – “For FUCKS SAKE WHY did I have to wear the skinny FUCKING jeans TODAY OF ALL DAYS!”
- Bargaining – “Maybe it wont be that bad?… Maybe if I leave it in the airing cupboard it will dry out?”
- Guilt – *whispers softly* “I’m so sorry little iPhone”
- Depression – “I’m such an idiot. I never should have had that extra half pint of cider. It was definitely the cider-pee that did it”
- Acceptance – *stares out the window at nothing in particular while sighing constantly*
I’m particularly pissed off because I was really enjoying listening to a new podcast called ‘The Chris Brake Show.’ I’ve been following Chris and the team for a few months now, and had JUST downloaded a bunch of brand spanking new episodes to my iPhone when tragedy struck. Thanks to Keira Knightley and her goddamn skinny jeans.
Thankfully I can still tune in via the WordPress website – but even though I can listen to the show, I never actually get to. Because despite being armed by a sandwich, cup of tea and my headphones – people in the office do not respect the sanctity of my lunch break. They must wait right until the moment I’m starting to digest my food to leap out from nowhere yelling
“THANK GOD YOUR’E HERE!”
- followed by an in-depth catalog of disasters that have befallen the office in the last 24 seconds and the general assumption I’m about to leap to my feet and wave my magic wand sandwich-be-damned.
The upshot is – I still have my work Blackberry, so I’m not entirely destitute when it comes to being able to communicate electronically. But navigating my way round a Blackberry is far less sexy than using an iPhone. With my work blackberry it’s all business and no play – but with my iPhone it was all play and only a LITTLE bit of business.
The iPhone is like that friend you had as a kid who was always trying to get you to shirk your chores in order to go and do something more fun. Like making a fort out of cardboard boxes.
Instead I’m stuck with this Blackberry, which is more like having Hermione Granger in your pocket 24 hours a day … for the next month.
All I hear is Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! – as emails come through ALL demanding immediate attention. Alarms and whistles sporadically shriek at me like a car alarm or similar because I’m two seconds late responding to something. It’s exhausting. And then there’s the spell check. Which is a lot like talking to a very deaf and incredibly elderly relative determined to misinterpret everything you say no matter what.
- “okay” …did you mean “kkk”?
- “okay” …did you mean “kill”?
- “cork” …did you mean “cock?”
- “it” …did you mean “tit”?
- “Jimbob” …did you mean “jumbo”?
- “satin” …did you mean “satan”?
- “satin”…did you mean “sat ON”?
- “pens” …was that “penis”?
NO NO NO!
Oh well… at least by the end of next month I will have a brand new phone to love, cherish and download podcasts to. And I solemnly swear, future phone, I will avoid dropping you down the toilet. Promise.