Almost exactly two years ago today Peanut threw my beloved iPhone 4 into the toilet. We were getting ready to leave and Peanut was pretty little. I didn't used to let him play with my phone back then because he was too young and I was worried he was going to damage it. That particular day I was in a huge hurry because we were running late. I remember setting my iPhone down on a table, but I put it too close to the edge and it fell onto the carpeted floor. It was one of those moments where I saw it fall out of the corner of my eye but I was already on my way into the bathroom to finish getting ready so I said to myself, "It will be okay on the floor for a few minutes."
I was midway through brushing my teeth (okay, so I was probably plucking a grey hair or popping a zit) when Peanut appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, holding my iPhone. It was one of those slow motion moments where I see him lift up his arm and my iPhone went airborne. I remember screaming, "Nooooooooo" but it was too late. It flew across the bathroom and plopped butt down into the toilet. I immediately fished it out and made a fatal error of trying to push some buttons. My phone looked like something from Poltergeist. It started freaking out and the screen went all demonic and ugly and it made kind of a hissing sound as it shut off and wouldn't turn back on. I wanted to cry, scream, flip out, but ultimately it was my fault for leaving my phone on the ground, in the reach of a then 18 month old. I mean what can you really do? Peanut didn't talk, he couldn't express himself or explain why he felt the need to turn my iPhone into an expensive paperweight. The boy still crapped his pants for poop's sake!
Anyways, after putting my iPhone in a bucket of rice for 8 days and not touching it all, I eagerly took it out of the rice, plugged it in and tried to turn it on. It laughed at me. Okay, it didn't but it basically said, "F you" and refused to turn back on. We tried to take it to Apple. They said they would replace the phone for $199 but it would be a refurbished phone and I wouldn't be able to keep my old phone or retrieve any of the data on it. Since I had pics of the kids and a bunch of other stuff I couldn't part with, I left with my broken iPhone in hand and said "No thanks." We found an independent iPhone repair shop that had great reviews Wired iRepair. I was so scared to hand my phone off to just anyone but these guys were so friendly and awesome and I knew my baby would be okay. I had already gone a week without a phone, so I wasn't upset when they said i'd have to leave it overnight. It turns out that even though my phone had only been exposed to water for a few seconds, that was all it took to cause major damage. It needed a new dock port and a battery. It set us back $150 but I was so thankful to have my own phone back and all of my data was still there.
I had a blissful year with my repaired iPhone when Mr. Peanut struck again. This time he threw the phone onto the hardwood floor. I don't know how the screen didn't shatter into a million pieces, but I picked it up and all seemed fine. That is until someone tried to call me and I realized that my ringer no longer worked. For the last year i've survived without a ringer. I miss pretty much every single incoming call, but I actually kind of like it. It's a perfect excuse when you just want to be left alone. "Sorry, my ringer doesn't work." I decided it wasn't that urgent and I didn't get the ringer fixed.
Last night I was checking something on my phone when I was suddenly revisited by Poltergeist again. The screen turned several shades of scary, and the damn thing kept turning itself off. I thought maybe the battery was just low so I plugged my phone in. At first I thought maybe I was just going crazy. It seemed to be working just fine. Then Poltergeist. My phone was haunted. After turning it back on again, it died again, only this time it wouldn't come back on. My phone is toast. The kids are denying any wrong doing, even though they were watching You Tube videos on it earlier. It didn't appear to have gotten wet again unless the kids dried it off to hide the evidence. I don't even want to know what's inside of my phone. Seriously, there is probably smashed banana and dried boogers up in that shiz.
My husband left for work with my iPhone. He'll be taking it back to the shop today in hopes that it will be a quick and easy fix. I'm not holding my breath. Okay, I lied. I'm holding my breath until I look like the damn purple people eater! I feel like one of my family members is going in for exploratory surgery and i'm pacing the halls and waiting for a diagnosis.
I have a confession. I googled, "How to plan a funeral for an iPhone." Nothing came up except for apps for planning your own funeral. I'm disappointed. This would be a valuable service for attached iPhone users.
As I prepare myself for the possibility that my baby may not make it home alive, i'm already planning her funeral. There are many questions an iPhone owner has to ask themselves when faced with the impossible.
Do I donate her parts?
Do I donate her entire body?
Would wearing all black to her funeral be an overkill? (of course not)
Do I give her a proper burial in the backyard?
Or do I let her go somewhere where she can really be free? I could fling her off the edge of a cliff Thelma and Louise style, or from the peak of Mt. Hood. Or maybe I will just stand on a dining room chair and let her drop down to the floor since i'm kinda afraid of heights.
When will I feel like texting again?
How long is the appropriate waiting period before filling in the notepad in my new iPhone?
Headstone or no headstone? Kidding. Sort of.
Once you come to terms with saying goodbye, a tribute must be in order.
I have asked my children to find some of her favorite and most watched You Tube videos.
RIP my love. I hope I did you proud.