I’m kind of a late bloomer. I was born 2 weeks after my due date. I didn’t kiss a boy until it was shocking that I hadn’t kissed a boy. I still don’t know any rap songs.
But this week, finally, years after everyone else, I got an iPhone.
And it’s the most amazing thing ever.
I fought it for so long, telling myself that I didn’t need the bells and whistles, that I could plan in advance and MapQuest directions and write them out on a a Post-It note, that I could text just as well on a Samsung.
But an opportunity came along, as opportunities are wont to do. And I’m not too proud to admit when I’m wrong.
I was wrong.
But now? I am so, so right.
I mean, look. I can use Instagram to make my sad, empty apartment with an ugly air conditioning unit look so… charming and wistful.
I know – effortless evocation. Aren’t you so jealous of how awesome and romantic my homeless life is?
[Once again, I make my case for a Sarcasm font.]
What will become of me? I already tracking my calories, and Facebooking on the go, and playing (and winning) Scrabble. What’s next, geocaching?
Let’s not get crazy.