Close Call

Yesterday at the post office, I nearly mailed my phone and took a picture of the event with Mia's Christmas wish list to Santa.

It was at the drive-by mailbox, too. (Don't you remember what happened the last time I went in that building? Oy!)

Even if I hadn't stopped myself in time, the mistake wouldn't have been particularly disastrous. My phone hardly works at this point, anyway. The power button is jammed in such a way that it only turns on every 8th attempt or so.

I read an article about my phone the other day that called it a dinosaur. A dinosaur!

This was an insult not just to my phone but to my heritage.

My family has a tradition of being "early adopters". (I believe that is actually an industry term.) I had dial-up internet in its infancy, when it took so long to connect that you had time to run a load of laundry while you waited, and you could actually go empty the dishwasher in the time it took for pages to load. 

Not that there were many pages, mind you. 

And forget about online chatting. There were only ten other people in the country who even had Prodigy at the time, and most of them were probably weirdos, anyway.

I still had to rely on Grolier Multi-media Encyclopedia for most of my research.
But we had the internet.
(Thanks, Dad!)

Throughout the years, I had a series of excellent phones, ending with the LG Voyager. That thing was the Cadillac of phones. Huge and luxurious, it had all the bells and whistles. (Some features were better than others-- one time I accidentally set it so that it was announcing all my text messages aloud. "New message from Mom," the computerized voice called out from my purse on the other side of the classroom, "Love you, honey-bunny. Call me soon!")

That phone was pretty sweet.
But it was still just a phone.

I waited eagerly for the first Android smartphone to be released. Man, did I love that thing. Even though it was buggy in the way first generation things often are, it was still so cool. And useful. But mostly cool.

Its death was especially unfortunate because of the simplicity of the situation. One day while I was supervising the kids in the pool, it just slipped right off my lap, falling a whopping 24 inches to its fate.

I had no choice but to replace it with the very best option at the time.

The HTC Dinosaur.

With the new problems (like the power button issue) popping up each day, it is easy to see why it's on its way to extinction.

Our situation is different now. I'm 34. I have 4 kids. We're a single-income family. I shouldn't need to have the newest and coolest phone (I'm trying to convince myself of this even as I try to convince you!) so I've been looking at other options. Let me clarify-- less expensive options.

They are all
so
bland.

I suppose I can live with bland.

The thing that will sting the most, though, is losing that 8 megapixel phone camera. Most of the things in my price range offer 5 megapixels. I'm not even sure if megapixels matter, but it feels like a loss, doesn't it?

I know I'll find something.
I know it will be outdated almost immediately.
I'm sure it will get the job done.

But will I ever be able to take photos with this level of clarity again?