Remember how I sent three million text messages overseas and had a little/big panic attack about the bill (I’ve Done A Stupid Thing … I think)?
And remember how I sent Husband a hasty and ill-considered message saying: “Have done stupid thing. Texted someone overseas maybe 1000 times (not an exaggeration). Am scared about the bill because I think you are still the account holder. Feel sick.”
And remember how he was very nice about it.
Well he sent me a reassuring text last night to let me know that my phone bill was only $86 for this month, compared to $81 for the month before.
It’s such relief, because I can’t say my Facebook friends and blog followers were much comfort during my time of crisis. One even suggested I’d be up for $1 per text.
Like I needed to hear THAT.
Not that the fear stopped me. It didn’t even slow me down. I kept texting like a demon.
I may be an addict.
OK, scrap that, I’m definitely an addict.
I love texting. Texting is the bomb. Though I am a little worried that 46-year-olds should not be using texting as their primary form of communication. And they definitely shouldn’t be using expressions like the bomb. Especially since it’s probably 20 years out of date with young people anyway.
But texting is so lovely, it’s all these gorgeous words dancing across the screen. A journalist’s dream.
It’s clever and far more uninhibited than the spoken word.
And it’s only $5 extra for three million messages. Go iMessage!
iMessage is the bomb.
I really need to stop saying that.
Anyways, I’m also quite keen on those little dots you get when someone is replying to you. And how it tells you a message has been “delivered” and then “read.”
It dovetails with my need for certainty in an uncertain world.
Song of the day: Elton John “Your Song”
PS And in other sentimental news … I just found an old email from the eldest saying …