Scroll fatigue

Sometimes you can have too much of a good thing.

My phone for instance. I had the big kahoona. I bought it back in my old life in LA when I thought I needed every one of those gigabytes like really bad dude. The music for long walks on the beach and to enhance runs on the treadmill. The photos to share with whats-his-face at the coffee shop in the morning and whats-her-face at dinner that night. The contact information for Two Date Todd, Five Martini Matt, Never Meet Me for Yoga Sally and Always Late Ally. And if there was ever an app that would toast a piece of bread, I wanted to be ready with the gigabytes to make it happen.

Not that I ever ate bread in LA.

Oh the smart phone possibilities... I needed the biggest and the best but I forget why. I loaded it up with a whole lot of fun stuff but rather than use it all, I spent a lot of time scrolling through addresses and photos, songs and files, emails and apps. And all that scrolling has given me a case of....

Scroll fatigue.

Here in Paris, my life is much simpler. First, I eat bread. I can't listen to my songs while walking here since I take the Heel Toe Express nearly everywhere I go. I need my ears to listen for traffic. This city can be a pedestrian nightmare if you're not on the ball. I only have a handful of friends here and we text or email to make plans. As for my address book... will the IT Help Desk from two advertising agencies ago really mind if I don't keep their number from 2007 in my phone?

So I did something unthinkable to smart phone aficionados everywhere.

I traded down.While everyone is clamouring and salivating over the latest smart phones, I took my fancy pants gigamega massive masterpiece of telephone technology back to the store and traded down for a smaller, very capable beauty.

It's still an iPhone. I'm not insane.

And with the money that was left over from the trade down, I bought speakers.

Dinner tastes better when made while dancing.

Music now fills our home in a happy way the teeny tinny iPhone or MacBook speakers never could. I'm happy. Christophe's happy. And I don't care if Just If I Have Nothing Better To Do Justine isn't happy that her number isn't in my phone anymore.