The Cell Phone Purge

Over the weekend my cell phone was destroyed. No, it didn't shortwire because I received so many incoming calls at once. Rather, some drunkard spilled a pitcher of cheap beer into my purse, soaking its contents and ruining basically everything that was in there. This included my cell phone. I had been wanting to upgrade to a Pink Motorola Razr for sometime, so in a way I was sort of happy about the phone. Granted, a rather liked the small size and general functionality of my little Samsung flip phone, but the time has clearly come to move on to a more sophisticated piece of telecommunications equipment. It has come to move on in other ways as well. Like many of you, my phone represented a collection of relics from my dating past-- a veritable museum (or graveyard if you will) of ex-hookups, fleeting crushes, situations that proved BAD FOR ME in the form of old text messages I didn't have the heart to erase and phone numbers I couldn't bear to delete. Well, those are gone now, and later today I have plans to march down to the local friendly cell phone store and buy a new device--one that I intend to fill only with the numbers of those who contact me for productive purposes. My cell phone will no longer be the contemporary stand-in for a little black book. Out of site, out of cell phone, out of mind.