Saturday morning stretched out before me with endless possibilities, and I breathed in its potential: I could do anything I wanted today. I didn’t want a plan. I curled my toes in my bed and quickly calculated how long it had been since changing the sheets, advancing to the assessment of the dustiness of the hardwood floors, which meant laundry and some sweeping. My heart craved heading up to Seattle and just sitting in a café and writing. I climbed out of bed, realizing that I could adhere to those responsibilities in lickety split time and then head up to seattle. Hopes shattered turned into a mental note of how ingenious I was…this plan was perfect.
First, I needed to make a call…and that’s when it happened. The cell phone was dead…sitting in a minute quarter size of water on the kitchen counter. I tried everything for about an hour, solutions that involved googling, unistalling, blowdrying, walking away and returning…then proceeded researching new, used phones and my plan. THIS was ruining the plans of my unplanned day.
I became obsessed. The failed cell phone signifying my carelessness as well as my isolation. Suddenly, phone calls seemed paramount. Measuring how much I should spend on a new one possessed my fleeting thoughts. Considering taking into a company store while perusing Craiglist searching for a good deal. An hour passed, then two. I visited cell phone websites and calculated prices and the cost of being off the wire for a few days while it shipped. I emailed a dozen merchants or sellers and researched buying a used cell phone and methods of sacrifice to the cellular battery Gods to get the thing back online. I went through stages of grief: denial (the battery is just dead) anger (Verizon Sucks! Why can’t they make phones waterproof?) bargaining (if the phone comes back online I’ll name my first child Motorola) depression (why is the world so cruel and I am so incompetent)…I am still waiting on that acceptance part.
I guess the point of this story is how easily I get sidetracked and impatient with unexpected bumps along the road. I did manage to get the laundry done, and after three hours of this dilemma, I walked out of my front door and drove an hour north to a funky coffee, resisting the strong urge to pull over at the cell phone store and buy a new phone or a new battery. The compulsion is to FIX the problem RIGHT now, because I don’t make it right, rectify my idiotic lack of detail.
So, against all my brain efforts, I promise myself NOT TO FIX this problem for the weekend. I’ll return to it on Monday if possible. In the meantime, I’ll live off the grid and learn to live with it that uncomfortable compulsion…not acceptance, but a compromise at the very least.