Withdrawal???

If this is what withdrawal is like, I'm glad that I've never experimented with drugs….

As some of you know, I was phone-les most of yesterday and last night. Now for some, that may seem like a welcome respite from endless text messages and needless phone calls. But, for me, it was anguish, sheer torture.

The precious attachment to my left hand is never far from my side and I was aghast to discover yesterday morning that I had failed to bring my USB cord to work; leaving me unable to charge my phone. I scurried to email recent photos to my work account and tapped off a few frenzied text messages before she predictably abandoned me and turned herself off.

Anxiously, I awaited the end of the work day, where I would be able to run home and properly connect my little friend to her much needed power source. She was in desperate need of some juice, and I was apprehensive of what messages, I might have inadvertently missed while she was slumbering.

I scurried to pick up my offspring, rushing to the back door and fumbling with my key in my haste to recharge her. Intelligent and observant, the boys stayed well clear of my path. I was single minded in my pursuit of a charge; she needed to enlighten my world with her high-resolution, full color graphic, liquid crystal display.

My hands shook slightly as I slide the charger into her. My breath quickened and I exhaled in an effort to calm my nervous and my ever growing excitement. She blinked and quivered. But, full color did not come as expected. OH, no. I had dallied too long and know she was completely discharged. Patiently, I must wait for her to build back her strength before powering her up. The minutes ticked by into hours. It seems that I was endlessly pushing her little buttons in the hope of resuscitation.

Valiantly, she clung to life and even teased me with a brief view of my inbox. But, alas, she would stop, hovering on the brink of death until I would take pity and pull her battery once again before reconnecting the charger.


As I crawled into bed, now almost 12 hours into my forced disconnection from the outside world, I reflected on how much I might have missed and how I would recapture those lost phone calls, emails and texts.

At approximately 10:45 PM, I was startled from the first stages of slumber by my ever watchful guard dog, Rosie. This was immediately followed by the sound of tires on the gravel in my drive way. I sprang from my bed, flipped the blind and grabbed my little baby off of the night stand. My first thought, however will I call for help? She was still not responding to even the slightest, most gentle touch. I flew through the house, checking doors, turning on lights. The crisis passed and I once again settled into my bed and turned off the light.

My precious friend was still being a tease and would light for just a few seconds before locking up or shutting down. I closed my eyes and hoped for a miracle. Not long after I drifted into slumber, I was once again awakened by thelow pitched growls and then excited barks of my ever vigilant guard dog. My heart raced. My blood pumped. My breathing quickened. I reached for my salvation and still she ignored my pleas for life. Whatever was I to do? The unmistakable sound of gravel meeting cold hard rubber was echoing through my home and I was alone with a large dog and two small children.

But wait, I raced to the kitchen and grabbed the cordless phone. Yes, I did have a land line. With my connection to the outside firmly in my hand, I raced from room to room, but not before the potential intruder had vacated my property.

Once again, I settled into bed and snuggled deeply under the covers. I checked my BFF and still she would not talk to me. I, fitfully, slumbered for several hours. Tossing and turning, I awoke from my non-restful sleep several times. Each time, I checked on her and each time she was struggling to regain her strength.


At around 3 AM, I gave up all pretense of sleeping, turned on the table lamp and proceeded to man-handle what had once been my closest friend. I pushed and prodded. I plugged and un-plugged. I ejected her battery, but each time she would light and then lock up. I tore through the desk looking for her operating manual. I even went so far as to locate her predecessor in a drawer and plug him in. If she was going to abandon me, then, perhaps, I was better off without her and would look at replacement options.


I was nearing the point of true physical violence. My mouth watered at the thought of sending her sailing across the room, hopefully to lodge painfully in the drywall or crumbling into a hundred pieces on the hardwood floor. I took a deep, calming breath. My hands shook and my breath was shallow, but I placed her back on the night stand and rolled away from her.


I awoke an hour later and determined that a little peek wouldn't hurt. Oh, joy! Low and behold, I could once again view my background graphics. I had text messages awaiting my perusal. My breath quickened in excitement and the tension eased across my neck and shoulders. She was not yet at 100%, but she was communicating with me. There was hope for our future.

Finally, I was able to get a few hours of good, restful slumber. My baby is once again lying quietly at my side, keeping me calm and connected. She is perhaps a little too quiet today, but that will change as friends and family learn of her miraculous recovery and near death experience.

Your favorite redhead,

Christine