Recent technological events at the Philo house have exposed the dark underbelly of my personality, something I’ve been trying to hide for years. I am addicted to technology. Perhaps this revelation, coming on the heels of the admission of my sunshine addiction, will make some of you think less of me, but please hear me out.
The sordid affair began last Wednesday morning when the oven thermostat on our stove quit working. I went into immediate baked-goods-and roasted-anything-withdrawal. By Thursday morning, I was twitchy. By Friday morning my eyes were red-rimmed and wild. When I called to tell Hiram the manufacturer no longer made the replacement part needed, he knew better than to mess around. “Do what you have to do. Buy a new stove.”
The stove was delivered Saturday morning, and I don’t think the nice young men who hauled it through the snow noticed me drooling. By afternoon, I was huffing muffin fumes, high on the aroma of oatmeal, honey, and whole wheat. “This isn’t an addiction,” I reasoned. “It’s healthy living at it’s best.”
But Monday morning, my proclivities reared their ugly little heads again as I prepared to take my laptop computer to the technology doctor. Now, my rational self knew this short separation was necessary – the flashing screen thing is quite annoying and my non-renewable service agreement is about to run out. But my body exposed the truth, as sweats and shivers attacked at the thought of two days away from my Macbook.
There’s no denying it anymore. I am addicted to technology. Life has no meaning apart from my stove and my computer, my external hard drive, my iPod, my blow dryer, the microwave and refrigerator, the dishwasher and my cell phone, my Canon rebel and Flip HD. The list goes on and on.
I am a technology junkie, and I plan to stay that way. No technology detox for me. No sir.
You can take me the way I am or leave me to rot with my gizmos. But for your own good, don’t contact me until Wednesday or Thursday when the MacBook is back, and the two of us have re-bonded. Then I’ll be fit for human company again.
In the meantime, pray for Hiram. With a wild-eyed, drooling madwoman to care for, he’s gonna need it.
