Three weeks ago my mobile phone decided not to send SMSes on my behalf. If you sent me an SMS, I would read it and compose 160 characters of wit just for you… but you would never receive it.
What a pity.
Then the unexpected happened…
I would call you instead!
You send me an SMS right? And I’m like KAZZAAAAM!!! HELLO!!! And you’re like WHOA SLOW DOWN BOYO, but I’m like YOWZAAA!!! MY SMS IS BROKEN SO TALK TO ME HONEYBUNS
This would happen with every SMS that demanded a reply.
I started talking to more people.
And people talked back.
Profound?
I wish I could tell you how I now have deeper relationships with the universe. But no. It has made no noteworthy difference in my life.
I guess I’m still noting it down, because I never imagined a lifestyle experiment involving not sending any SMSes for 3 weeks.
I mean, what if you couldn’t send SMSes for 3 weeks?
Try it.
You’ll see what a pointless exercise in frustration it is. I’m getting my phone fixed this week.
Side observation:
Mobile phones and me = Women and me
They look good at first, but after a couple of months they start to act strangely. Guess I pressed the wrong buttons.
The sketch you see is “hdd”, from my gallery of digital doodles
