dead blogs tell no tales

"My phone won't let me text. Sometimes it decides not to ring when someone is calling. It doesn't even tell me if I missed a call."

I pause. The phone's disabilities embarrass me. Hearing myself, I realize that the description sounds vaguely similar to"there is a monster under my bed. It won't let me get up in the morning. It also ate my homework." I'm embarrassed by me.

Madge, the surly Verizon tech support person, finds me ridiculous. Interspersed between her futile attempts to exorcise the mobile terror are unoriginal wails of "ugh! It just froze again... did I mention [insert previously unmentioned complaint]." Madge is determined. Determined to stop the pathetic whining. It took me three months to get frustrated enough to call tech support; Madge is beside herself in fifteen minutes, perseveres, and eventually emerges triumphant.

A friend conspiratorially whispers, "don't tell your Mom. Don't tell anyone."

I vigorously nod my agreement. This story goes no further. The secret is safe. A reader-less neglected blog tells no tales.

Ironically, it was a picture-message of my thigh that froze the phone. Just wasn't enough memory for something that size.