Sometimes, I feel that my phone is wasted on me. Usually, I'd just leave it lying around some part of the house and I wouldn't even see that I have a very important message 'til I remember that I have a cellphone. I'm one of those people whose phones are not a part of their body and having zero load isn't really a crisis. I rarely load up credits and I rarely idly contact people. I have an anemic text life.
It's not really a problem and I only let it bother me when I want it to. There are some perks to being an almost incognito cellphone user. My inbox is clear of junk mail, particularly chain text messages that promise to send some horrible spectre of death to you or someone dear to you if you don't pass it on to everybody you know. When I do receive one of them dread messages, I first fret over the fact that I don't have enough load and contacts to save my soul and then laugh about it and hope for the best. Presently, no bloody couple/man/woman/baby has made a surprise visit to me and I'm still very much alive and updating this here blog thing you young'uns like to have. -Don't believe a thing! I actually thought those text messages were a joke since nothing happened whenever I ignored them until I came home one day and found all those horrible specters of death having a macabre rave party in my house!-
Other perks of having a not -so-living text life would be that my phone battery doesn't really need much charging since it isn't constantly beeping and vibrating. Anyway, I mostly don't care about all that. There are just some times when I regret not making that many social ties using my phone; like today.
(a pretty long and pointless intro, isn't it?)
I need stronger mental kung-fu. I've burned a hole in my wallet when my dark spendthrift half got the better of mister penny-pincher. Central Jean Claude (the part of me that knows and sees everything I do) might be able to give a reason why I did what I did but he's not actually available for consultation (he never is).