And the Battery Lasts Forever

Every night on the way home from work, I walk across a bridge over the Chicago river. And every night when I walk over the bridge, I have a nearly uncontrollable urge to throw my stupid blackberry or cellphone, whichever happens to be in my hand, into the river. I have fantasies about somone mugging me and stealing my blackberry and cell phone. I look forward to driving somewhere with bad cell service so that I don't have to answer my cell. The other day, I contemplated bashing the blackberry with a hammer and telling everyone it fell into the street and got run over by a cab.

This can't be normal.

But this weekend is going to be better. I'm going down to Kentucky to visit a friend, and I am promising myself that I will only check the blackberry once a day, that I will only return voicemails marked as "urgent", and that I won't answer my cell phone at all. In fact, I may leave all of the electronic stress monkeys in the bottom of the suitcase.

I really hate my blackberry.

I think that when you get to Hell, before Satan even pokes you with the pitchfork, they give you a blackberry. And you have to keep it with you all the time. On vibrate. And the battery lasts forever.