Life After Death

I have a cell-phone plan with Cingular, whose original incarnation was my old Enron cell-phone (with AT&T). In fact, I still have that same cell-phone number I had, from the days when I was an (Excel-only) millionaire.

But I digress.

Now, I have three cell-phones on my account: mine, Ben's and Dylan's. Karen and I continue to pay for the boys' phones, for obvious reasons. The phones we have are two years old and all the same model - a very basic LG, with no special features. Plus, they were still on the old AT&T network and plan, which always causes the Cingular folks down the street to sigh whenever they look at my account.

My phone is still in great condition. However, the boys' phones have been dropped and abused beyond belief, and look battle-scarred. The other day, Dylan said he heard that, if we all go into the Cingular store together, they will upgrade all our phones for free. It sounded too good to be true, but, the other day, I happened to have both of them with me, so we stopped to inquire.

It took almost an hour, but all three of us now have new Cingular camera-phones, with a much better display and so many other goodies to be discovered. Plus, we got moved over to the Cingular network without increasing the monthly cost. Once we get the rebates, the total cost of the three new phones will be $30. Everyone is happy, and I have actually replaced the boring wall-paper with a photo I took while walking the dog in the park.

We plan to donate our old phones to a worthy cause (women's shelter, or something like that). So, the old phones were sitting on a table, having been stripped of their SIM cards. Discarded, worn-out, beat-up pieces of obsolescence.

We were going about our daily lives when we heard an odd buzzing. I walked around the house until the sound led me to the pile of old phones. I picked one of them up. It was Ben's phone - he had set a future appointment, reminding him of a haircut.

You know how they say that your fingernails keep growing after you die? That's how it seemed holding a brain-dead phone, that was desperately trying to deliver a message, calling out to be heard. A last gasp before expiring forever.

Too much coffee on a Sunday morning.

Thanksgiving preparations continue. We pick up the turkey tomorrow and Karen's mom arrives tomorrow afternoon. Today, I clean out the fridge.

Outside: rain, rain, rain.