iPhone, My Phone

   I finally did it.  I finally gave up my flip phone and purchased an iPhone.  My husband has wanted me to upgrade my cell phone for quite some time.  Actually, the big push for an iPhone came after I spent forty-five minutes stuck in the elevator at the elementary school where I used to teach.  You see, while I was in the elevator, my cell phone had no signal, and I had never texted before.  I had no idea how to capitalize, how to space out words, and the text I sent to the friend that finally called 9-1-1, looked something like:  “stuckinelevator.”  Thankfully, he knew what I meant, and he got me help.  My husband said that if nothing else, texting would have been easier on an iPhone.

   I bought the iPhone and spent the first day ignoring it.  I didn’t have a case yet, and was absolutely terrified I would drop it.  It seemed safer not to carry it with me at all.  Now, with a solid case on it, my husband tells me it’s quite secure, and since I have it, I should be carrying my fancy-shmancy new iPhone with me.

   I wanted the phone because my flip phone, reminiscent of the gadget Captain Kirk used to command, “Beam me up, Scotty,” wasn’t working well anymore.  The signal was often weak.  And, when out on adventures with my son, I always had to carry our digital camera with me.  An iPhone would make it easier for me to capture those “Kodak moments.”

   Except now that I have it, I’m intimidated and overwhelmed by my iPhone.  I don’t want to check emails with it, don’t want to look anything up on the internet.  I primarily want it to be a phone that also takes great pictures.  Maybe, as time goes on, I’ll grow braver -- experiment with setting the alarm when the laundry is in the dryer and use the calculator to determine my breakfast server’s tip.  

   Little steps, that for me aren’t so little.  I bought the iPhone.  I have it with me.  

   Now I just have to use it.