Lil’ Green the Cell Phone: February 2008-April 2008

I was just getting to know you, little phone, and your ways were beginning to bewitch me rather than beguile me. I finally figured out how to turn on your camera at the touch of the button rather than hunting through menu options. I was just getting used to your predictive text feature, and you were learning with me—you understood that when I typed the “4” and the “8” I was usually trying to say “Huzzah!”

The tiny grooves on your slim body made the most wonderful squeaky sounds when I dragged my nails across them. Your fancy screen glowed paisley orange. Every time my gentleman caller rang you sang, “Hey There Delilah” and it made me laugh because my gentleman caller hated that song.

You were so funny, little phone. I’ll miss that about you.

But I guess the God of Electronics needed you more than I, for last night at approximately 9:48 p.m. you met your watery grave in my second floor bathroom. You sizzled and made a few feeble “mews”—so different from the songs you used to sing me—and then left me forever.

Believe me when I say I tried to revive you, little phone. After delicately cleaning you with a Clorox wipe I blew on you with all my lung capacity in attempts to make you a little less damp, a little less cold, a little less lifeless. But it was all for naught. Your screen grew milky, like the eye of a sheep afflicted with glaucoma, and that was that.

I only knew you for two months, little phone, but that was enough to change my life forever. I suppose I should be grateful that I kept your predecessor, for that means I can suffer through a sufficient mourning period before I buy your replacement. Just know that even when that day comes, I shall never forget you.