For a couple months I was living on iCloud nine[9] as I built my new life with Eloise. However, I realized I had a problem when one day I found myself Google-mapping[10] my way to my mailbox. Which happens to be right outside my front door.
When I reflected upon[11] the past few months, I couldn’t believe I didn’t see this coming. All the warning signs were there. Eloise slept right beside me and was the first thing I reached for in the morning. I checked my e-mail about 20 times a day. I also experienced attachment anxiety when I left poor Eloise in the change room at the gym.[12] What if she beeped and needed my response? Or, even worse, what if a careless gym-goer knocked her out of my bag and caused her screen to (I hardly dared to imagine it) crack?[13]
Okay, so I was addicted to my iPhone.
Once I admitted I had a problem, things started to change. What used to feel like friendly notifications now felt like constant nagging to respond.[14] I hated that I could no longer leave the house without Eloise in my hand. Eventually, I resented Eloise so much I wanted to throw her at the wall—and would have, too, if I weren’t so worried about being reported for iPhone abuse.
I decided something had to be done. But, as I quickly realized, iPhones are like cigarettes and not easy to quit.
Then, while taking the bus to work one day, I was unexpectedly forced to quit—at least temporarily. When I reached into my purse to grab Eloise (to check my e-mail for only the seventh time that morning), I found her overcome by fever. She was so hot that I dropped her immediately back into my bag with barely enough time to comprehend the words “overheating” and “power-off” that flashed with angst[15] upon her screen. When I picked her up again, she was gone.
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