So I decided to look at what could have caused this.
Warning: Please do not attempt to take the following content in any other way than as a look at how great I have it and how I should be counting my blessings instead of ripping people's (Hub's) heads off. Thank you.
So yesterday, Saturday, we went out to one of them fancy malls that have heating and restaurants instead of punishing the poor person at the driving range whose life I threaten every weekend by daring to attempt to find my backswing again, because it rained and our house suddenly remembered its closet desire to be a fridge and not a house. It was doing so well in therapy, but I guess it was really born a fridge in a house's outer shell, and there isn't much anyone can or even should do about that. Incidentally, the same goes for transsexual people, the house has informed me, and I have to say the house is onto something there.
What was I saying? Human rights? Err...
Ah, yes. We were at the mall and browsing around the Apple store (because everything is so shiny and glittery and I'm attracted to both) and regardless of having been denied a cell phone contract by every single operator in this country (I'll just leave the explanation at T.I.A.) I decided I was going to go ahead and get myself an iPhone anyway. Dang it, I wanted one.
"Everyone else has one, and I want one too," I told the Hubs and made a face that he refers to as the 'my wife is not above making a very public scene like the 6-year-old that she is' face.
The Hubs asked for the 8GB version, at which point the opportunist sales person fixed me with a meaningful stare and quickly said: "We just got the new one, the 32GB one," which lead to me making a face even the name of which should never be revealed, because the face is just that powerful.
And made the Hubs get me an iPhone 3G S 32GB.
Without having a contract.
But because I really, really, really wanted one.
I also used the latter 'face' to get a pair of boots, and some other necessary (read: nice to look at and/or touch) things.
Like a nice Crumpler cover.
Then, as we finally made it back to the freezer substantially poorer than when we set out in the morning, per our long established routine in technical matters, I proceeded to have a meltdown after meltdown trying to get the phone unlocked, registered and charged (these being the details the devil might well reside in). And I won't even get into the humongous outburst of complete bewilderment that erupted in my fragile psyche when I was trying to figure out where in the name of Maryjane I was supposed to stick the prepaid SIM card.
"What in the HELL AND ITS PENGUINS is wrong with this piece of PENGUIN DROPPINGS phone," I screamed at the Hubs, who was using a technique referred to as 'the duck's back' and making as if I didn't exist. Since, after all, we'd had a little talk in the car on the way back about how setting up the phone was my responsibility, because Hubs has a hard time setting up stuff he is not allowed to touch, i.e. all things Apple that belong to me.
"WHO, and I ask you WHO in the name of hockey sticks and jello, designs these infernal machines?" I continued as Hubs surfed the world wide web quietly looking for some much needed guidance, which he eventually found and then gently guided me through what for a moment there could have perhaps reminded quite a few people of at home childbirth. There was a fair amount of "Now, breathe calmly. That's it, breathe in and out, in and out.... And now... PUSH."
In the end, thanks to the techno-viking ways of my very own Hubs, I finally made it onto the network, downloaded a few applications, and tweeted with my iPhone, and all seemed well.
Then the battery died. And after plugging the phone in it unceremoniously threw "This application does not allow for simultaneous charging" at my face accompanied by a big yellow triangle, and died again.
This is when it finally dawned on me. Again, the universe was giving it to me straight, and the only thing left to do was to ignore the stupid machine, get some more wine out of the fridge, lie back on the couch, and watch Lost.
Nothing more, nothing less.