I know, I know—I’m pitiful. You might be thinking that because you’re a part of the population which thinks it’s about time I entered the 20th century since we are, after all, in the 21st now (don’t even think about starting that debate with me, okay?). Then again, you could be in the other group, which just crossed my name off their list of "People Who Haven’t Lost Their Mind Yet" and is making a note to see how quickly a brain tumor starts to sprout out of my ear.

     So what was my rationalization for getting one? I live a strange life. I don’t have a permanent place to live and I move around a lot. For the past several years my only sense of grounding has been a mail drop and a voicemail/pager so people have a place to send junk mail and leave garbled messages. During all that time I carried the pager twice—both times to hear from women who never called—so it was really just a virtual answering machine. And a very compact one, at that. Which is pretty much what the cell phone is too. When I found out that for a lousy five bucks more a month I could have voicemail, get and receive calls, have a cool looking clock with my name on the display, and get $30 worth of long distance calls for free, well, is it any wonder the practical side of me said, "Get those rationalization wheels turning, baby"?

     Of course I have to admit that email is a whole other thing. I’m compulsive about checking my email. Once, twice, three times a minute isn’t at all unusual. But that makes sense. After all, it’s not like regular mail which comes once a day, so if you didn’t get a letter there’s no sense checking the mail box until the next day. And it’s not like the telephone, which lets you know when it wants you. (Like mail, there’s no sense in picking up the phone when it’s not ringing just to see if someone might be trying to reach you. Which isn’t to say I haven’t done that.).