A few weeks ago, I forgot my phone at home when I left for a four day conference.

FOUR DAYS.

You know I didn’t mean to do that.
You know our cell phones are now an extension of our bodies.
You know when you don’t have it, you feel discombobulated– like something is off.
You feel naked, exposed.
You’re uncomfortable, there’s a haunting in the back of your mind– what’s missing?
What have I forgotten?
Did I turn off the stove? Did I let the dogs out? Did I lock the door?
What, what, what?!

Oh yeah. My phone. Sigh.
Sure, that’s “all” but you still panic a little each time.

The worse part is the buzzing in your back pocket. But wait, your pocket is empty.
That’s just your butt.
You are suffering from PPS, or Phantom Phone Syndrome.
It’s a very real thing. The buzzing, knocking, pinging.
You hear it. You feel it. You sense it.

I had gone cold-turkey. By the third day, the worst of the shakes had passed. I was on the other side of withdrawal– just in time to go home and reunite with my temporarily orphaned lifeblood.

Sure, they made fun of me. Those darn cell phone bullies.
“Has everyone had a chance to download the Guidelines app?”
No.
“Selfie!”
Can’t.
“Text when you’re on your way.”
Or not.

And there were the repeated buzzes, knocks and pings that kept distracting me.
What is wrong with my butt?!

That said, you know what?
It was kinda nice. Refreshing to look up. To focus and listen and see.

I’m leaving again in a few days. I may “accidentally” forget my phone.

Yeah, right.
That sucker will be packed alongside my underwear.
At least then if I forget it, I really will be naked.