An Open Letter to My Droid

Dear Droidie,

There are so many great things about you.

You are by far the coolest, most high-tech phone I've ever owned. You make me feel a little cooler by extension.

I was thrilled that Facebook came standard on your home page. I like being able to check in on things during my lunch break at work. And I'm more than a little geeked out about actually being able to download apps and games and ringtones for free. (I realize these things have been around for years; not sure if I mentioned how behind the times I am.)

Your sliding full keyboard is super cool. No more hitting the "6" key over and over to spell the word "mom." And your camera is AMAZING -- now I can take pictures of my dogs that aren't nasty and grainy. T sent me a video of himself singing a goodnight song last night. From the living room. And I could listen to it on you!

I spent $10 on screen protectors so you wouldn't get smudged from my (apparently greasy) face.

I gladly dived in, gloveless, to save you when you accidentally fell in that snowbank, and I happily spent the next 20 minutes ignoring my freezing hands and making sure every drop of moisture was removed from your face and innards so your life could continue.

I'll be the first to sing your praises, and I'll defend you 'til the end.

But if you ever again mysteriously make the Snooze/Dismiss screen disappear at 5:55 a.m., leaving me to scrabble around, blind and sleep-shocked, trying desperately and failing to shut off your AMAZINGLY LOUD ALARM (which only comes in "Loud," "So Much Louder Than You Thought Was Possible" and "Air Horn Inside Your Brain Stem," apparently)?

I will throw you right back in that snowbank, and no amount of robot-sounding "Droid"ing will be able to save you.

LYLAS,

Shan