Okay, I admit it, I'm addicted.
I tried to resist for a couple of years. I just said, "No!" repeatedly, but it had been a very long, very bad day and I was stuck in Detroit at 1:00 in the morning, in imminent danger of being kicked out onto the street. My defenses weakened and I mentally succumbed.
After flight delays and screw ups, after being in airport purgatory for hours and being routed all over the country trying to get to a family funeral, I said to the Engineer, "Yes, I will get a cell phone."
I called it "My Leash" from the get-go, and tried to use it as seldom as possible.
Gradually, over the last five years, it has become part of my life. I carry it with me almost all of the time. All of my friends know my number and a whole lot of my business is done on it. I have left the standard TMobile ringtone for all calls except for the Engineer; his calls are announced with "Ride of the Valkyries." I have it set for vibrate first, then ring.
Tonight I was sitting at the picnic table after finishing dinner with my phone in my shirt because my outfit had no pockets. It had slipped over to the left and ridden up funny when it went off. The buzzing was a stimulating experience. I think I said something like, "Whoop!"
That was when I realized I was addicted. When you have to get cheap thrills by carrying your vibrating cell phone in your shirt, you are surely hopeless.