Aaargh! Being a dribbling idiot adds a lorra lorra stress to life. And if you’re already stressed to atomisation point, dat ain’t good, bwoss!
I’m in a stressed out depression at present, on and off. And every time I lose or misplace something it becomes a calamitous panic that sends my PTSD style ‘Nam Vet’ type cortisone overload off the scale.
I lost my primary pair of testacles… er, spectacles, a few days ago. And then this morning I couldn’t find my secondary iPhone. And the latter I’d just been prepping for taking to Fonetek, to have a new battery and screen fitted.
In the end, after the stress panic subsided a little, I recalled that I’d been letting the iPhone battery drain off its charge, and it was stuck in alarm mode; the broken screen preventing me from turning the alarm off, I hid it under some pillows. Forgot. And then panicked!
Whilst looking for this iPhone (an oldish 6S), I found the lost specs, on the gravel drive of our front garden. Crushed, bent, dirty, and yet, remarkably, not actually broken. Whether they can be fixed or not, I don’t know.
Having found the iPhone, I’ve taken it to Fonetek, where they’re replacing both screen and battery (as well as a broken back on an even older iPhone 4). I’ll pick them up later. I’m hoping having the 6S as a backup to my SE2020 (or whatever my newest one is!?) might be helpful.
The older iPhone? Might sell it, if it’s worth anything. Or poss use it as an MP3 player for drum lessons? Hmmm!?
All of the stress associated with this sort of idiocy is o my compounded by the state of mess and clutter that totally dominates our domestic life. And that is a fundamental failing I need to address in real earnest: this Spring a Spring Clean is, quite possibly literally, a matter of life n’ death!