FINDING A CURE FOR TEXTAHOLICS
Recently, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage and Yours Truly upgraded our lives with cell phones. Up to this time, I just assumed the cell phone was what a prisoner used.
My wife and I drug our feet for a long time until we finally took the plunge. Both of us finally went to the cell phone store and signed up for cell phone service. She picked out a phone for her and then picked up another phone and turned to me and said, “I think this will suit you.”
I learned long ago that when my wife is “thinking,” I should not interrupt the phenomenon.
I must say she did not hog the whole experience of purchasing cell phones. She rather graciously allowed me to pull out my checkbook and write a check for our cell phone service. I wrote that check and signed it with a smile not knowing what I was really doing.
I have found not knowing what I am doing really is a very peaceful part of my life. There is no stress when you do not know what you are doing. However, when you have some idea what you are doing, then comes the stress. I must admit, most of my life is stress free.
Now, that we have upgraded our lifestyle, life has become rather easy for us.
I really did not know how the simple act of signing up for cell phone service would so drastically change our life. There is something with our service called texting. I have heard of this of course, but I had no idea what it was all about. But I was shortly to discover the bliss of the world of texting.
Not long after we purchased our cell phone service we were at a restaurant celebrating our wedding anniversary. Yes sir, 40 years ago we tied the knot and we have had a wonderful time together. Oh sure, there have been those “knotty” situations, but overall everything has held together. That sure was a tight knot we tied back in the day.
We were celebrating at a certain restaurant and my wife needed to go to the lady’s room for whatever ladies do in the lady’s room. While she was gone, the waitress came to take our drink order. Even though I have been blissfully married for 40 years, I never take it on my own to make decisions for my better half. I have not had enough practice making decisions for my half. So, when the waitress asked for her drink order I did not quite know what she wanted.
Then it dawned on me. I will text her. After all, isn’t that why we got this cell phone service in the first place? So I text her and ask her what she wanted me to order her for her drink.
Within a very short time, my cell phone buzzed and I looked at her text.
I looked at the waitress who was looking rather strangely at me, and said to her,
“My wife will have coffee.”
This was just the beginning of the textualization of our formal blissful relationship. We really do not have to talk anymore; we can just text each other, which cuts down on the shouting.
Just the other night I was sitting in my easy chair reading a book and a text message came on my cell phone. I picked it up and looked at the text message and it said, “Can you come to the bedroom immediately.” Not knowing what opportunities awaited I rushed into the bedroom.
There my wife was on one side of the bed and said to me, “Help me turn this mattress over.”
We were at the mall together and we usually go to different stores. My cell phone rang and a text message came, “Where are you?”
I immediately text back, “Right behind you.”
A text message returned quickly saying, “Oh, I thought you were lost.”
“No,” I fast text back to her, “but it can be arranged.”
I am neither a psychiatrist nor a psychologist but I think my wife has become intexticated by this new technology.
I said to her once, “Lay down the cell phone and nobody will get hurt.”
She quickly text me and said, “Touch my cell phone and you die.”
I’m not sure if there is a rehab center for textaholics yet, but I know someone who should go there. Wait a minute… I have a text coming in.
“What do you want for supper? Meatloaf or fried chicken?”
“Fried chicken is fine with me,” I text back.
Now, where was I? Ah yes, a rehab center for textaholics. Wait a minute… I have another text coming in.
“Can you pick up a quart of milk at the store?”
Yes, a rehab center for textaholics. If anybody knows one you can text me with the information.
But then again, maybe being addicted to texting isn’t all that bad. After all, it facilitates keeping in touch with someone without actually having to talk to them. That can’t be all bad.
It still does not trump God’s ability to keep in touch with us. I like what the prophet says, “And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear” (Isaiah 65:24 KJV).
I think God has texting beat, thumbs down.
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