Well, I'm a murderer.
I've killed my cell phone.
You know how this blog is about the fact that I'm a teacher, but I still do stupid things, or make poor choices? This one is just such a rookie mistake, probably made by many.
For some reason, I put my cell phone in the back of my shorts and took Piper out to go play. (Did I think someone important was really going to need me in the twenty minutes it took to play with the dog?) It's over 100 degrees in the shade here in Austin, so I got back and was disgusting and sweaty. I just started to a load of laundry, stripped and thew in my shorts, along with all the rest I'd been putting off.
I take a shower, grab a snack and, as I usually flip though Facebook or my emails while I eat, I began to look for my beloved. Instantly, the cold shock realization that I have totally fucked up hits me. I sprint to the washing machine pulling everything out, which is all ten times harder now with the water weight and the tangling. I grab it out, but yes, it was totally submerged at some point in the wash. The cursing began here.
I remembered I'm supposed to keep it off and get it as dry as possible. (Yes, from a previous encounter with a tub of water at the pedicure place.) So, I look for rice to start sucking out the water--but no dice. But, I've got couscous! Then I attempt to make a couscous bowl ASAP, but it's literally all over the floor now in my frenzy. I get on the computer to watch some You Tube clips about getting into the phone to remove the battery before any more damage is done.
Have you ever looked at the screws on the I phone 5? Ok, the screws at the bottom which I'm instructed to remove are so freaking tiny I have to get out my glasses. I don't have a microscopic screwdriver for the microscopic screws, so I thought, hey!, why not run up the conveniently located Apple store where I can get instant access to the pros?!?! I put my dripping hair in a crazy-ass looking bun, put some actual clothes on, and literally run up the street to the store where I'm met with the most patronizing man with his hip, clear glasses. After explaining my whole situation with sufficient self-deprecation and the I-screwed-up-please-help-me-smile, he replies that "they" aren't open. (What, do you own Apple? Is this your family?)
"Um, I'm here talking to you. The door wasn't locked or anything."
"Well, yes, but we open at noon on Sundays."
"Ok, that's in thirty minutes. No, ok, well can I just borrow one of those microscopic screwdrivers to avoid more damage on my super-expensive-phone which has everything on it?"
"I'm sorry, but there's just nothing we can do at this point." Shaking his head as if he cared, and then queuing up his stupid functioning I-Pad. "But you can make an appointment for this evening with our Genius Bar."
Um, thanks for nothing, asshole.
So, now I'm frantic AND pissed off. I quickly head back home to the car and then out to HEB to get a special screwdriver to open up the case. Along with actual rice since the couscous is getting in the small openings of the phone. While there, I can't find anything useful except that little plastic case people use for glasses with some extra screws. Whatever, that and rice and I scoot.
I race back home, now just frantic and less pissed, because I am taking this challenge head-on! I can change this outcome! I've got my own will and abilities! Only to find that no--in fact this teeny tiny screwdriver is small--but NOT microscopic. Lots of cursing.
Then Speed Racer out again to Home Depot for another set of screwdrivers. I'm still trying to pump myself up here and not to give up. Some little old man employee was eyeballing me since I was taking out all these screwdrivers to make sure this time. "Ma'am, may I help you?"
"No. I'm fine." Seriously man, you do not want to unleash the Kraken boiling up inside this sister.
I pay for the deluxe set of 16 screwdrivers thinking the smallest one HAS to work.
Naturally, it doesn't. The bile is now rising in the back of my throat. I've now personified my cell phone as drowning in a car, and I can't help it.
I basically found one of the flathead attachments to use, which really wasn't the right size either, but I made happen, all to figure out that the YouTube video was for an I phone 4, not 5. Meaning, I needed more special tools to open that one up. At that point the hubs came home from work (yes, working on Sunday) and I totally broke down-- bawling from frustration.... and also hormones and let's face it, hunger.
He hugged me and let me complete my Ugly Cry. We left it in some rice (thank you HEB) overnight and that poor puppy was still fried. I tried to turn it on finally the following morning and it literally was blinking red and white. My phone was bleeding. Totally a Johnny Five moment for me.
|No disassemble! Johnny-Five alive!|
So, from our research, it seems like I can pay a small fortune and just get a replacement. That was going to be my school clothes shopping money. Also a tearful moment.
First world problems indeed, but they're my problems so they count--yo. The hubs said he thought a family member died I was so upset when he came home. I told him one did. I loved that phone.
And now, naturally, I have to walk back to the Apple Store and make a stupid appointment with the "Genius Bar" to get another phone. God, I hate that name. And I'm going to make sure that I have on make-up and dry hair this time.
Lesson learned? Get the stupid insurance coverage and don't be a dumb-ass.