The Non-Hassle Party

NO-HASSLE1I was late to church, and slid into a seat near a friend.

“I hear you’re in the dog house,” she said.

I stared at her blankly, trying desperately to figure out who I might be in trouble with.

“What?” I mumbled. “What did I do?”

“Haven’t you been on Facebook?” she asked. “Your husband posted.”

“What?” It was still early as far as I was concerned.

“He said that your cell-phone alarm went off and woke him up at 5:45 this morning.”

At that point, the service began, and I prayed for things that probably won’t help me get to heaven.

When I got home, I realized why I had not seen my husband’s post on Facebook. But I have no idea why he chose to humiliate me in a public forum. It’s not fair. Life is…

“Lov…lov…CAROL ANE!”

“…hun …what?”

“Isn’t this article going into the Foxboro Reporter?”

“What?!!! … yeah. Well … the Foxboro Reporter doesn’t really count.”

Anyway, back to my story.

It’s not fair. Life is not fair. I hate cell phones.

Here is the story. I’ve had a cell phone for about three years. And I was finally beginning to get the hang of it. It’s a good way to set an alarm and I was really getting it. Sunday nights I remember to turn it on, and Friday nights I remember to turn it off. I know how to use the calculator, and enter new contacts, and I had even texted once or twice!

Then, I got a job.

Actually I got a job from my old company, but in a different position. So I sort of know something about what I am supposed to be doing, but not really, and I’m three years out-of-date. I should be thrilled to be getting lots of new toys, and part of me is. I have a new computer … but I also have 10 or 11 passwords. And there are intricate steps to connect to the master computer in Virginia. And complicated data protection procedures. Plus I have a new cell phone that my co-workers and bosses expect me to know how to answer. And to make matters worse, I have to get up in the morning!

So, in the middle of all this, my love decided that we should get new phones. Now, I’ve been wanting a new phone. My kids make fun of me because it takes me about 10 minutes to compose a text message, and then it doesn’t actually make any sense. I wanted a phone with an actual keyboard so I could stop with the hit the key three times to get the letter of your choice.With the full keyboard, I could be one textin’ fool.

I just forgot how much I hate learning new things.

So on Friday, we did the transition.

“The phone is dead! Long live the phone!” my husband declared, parading the new cell phone around the house on a red velvet platform. Meanwhile I held the new one at arm’s length, staring at it with extreme suspicion.

Friday night, I went to bed, and Saturday morning I slept late.

Which was a good thing, because I had the task of entering all the old numbers into the new phone. I was pretty proud of myself.

Until Sunday morning, when I realized that my love had publicly humiliated me without warning. Apparently, I hadn’t turned the alarm off on the old phone on Friday, but I turned the phone off. No problem. But, on Saturday, after entering all the number, I just put the phone to one side, without thinking about whether it, and its alarm was on or off. Everything was fine until Sunday morning, when it woke my husband. Early. At 5:45. Which gave him plenty of free time to post slurs about his wife on Facebook. Which she neglected to read.

Actually I read Facebook religiously. And I had read it that Sunday morning. But, at some point in the past, I had discovered a way to have lots of friends without actually having to bother to read everything they posted. (Really, doesn’t everyone do it in private?) So I created a list of “closer friends.” Then I happily forgot all about it.

Except, I forgot that complicated things need continued maintenance.

“Lov…you don’t let me forget that.”

“Stop interrupting! You’re confusing my line of thought!”

Anyway, when my husband had joined Facebook, I had neglected to add him to my “closer friends” list, so he was “hidden.” Thus, everyone else had read his post before me.

Have I mentioned that I hate complexity?

I want to start a national no-hassle party.

We would ban supermarket cards. We would really ban the gas stations that make us use the supermarket cards to get a discount or press “override” when there is no “override” button! We would only support health care proposals that would ban multiple applications and reimbursement forms. Tax preparation companies would go out of business when we totally re-did the tax system.

“Umm…lov?” my husband interjected. “Didn’t you work for a tax preparation service? Why would you want it to go out of business?”

“Stop confusing me with logic.” I answered, glaring at him.

“Umm…sorry…but isn’t your new job all about the intricacies of consumer regulation?”

“You’re doing it again!” I warned him. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to…to….write an article about you!”

“I make my living fixing computer software,” he continued. “If it weren’t for complexity, we would probably have to actually work for a living.”

“I hate the 21st century.” I concluded sadly.

I sighed, and thought about it all. It was enough to make me pray. For things that probably won’t help me get to heaven.

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