The deed was done. I had my new black flip phone, with my lobotomized iPhone sitting there next to it on the counter
Here are the things I’m noticing some two weeks into my experiment. (If I keep calling it an experiment as opposed to a switch, that gives me permission to switch back guilt-free, right?)
Number one: The switch loomed so large in my head that now that I’ve done it, I’m shocked at how easy it was. Make no mistake, I’m not saying that downgrading from a smartphone to a flip phone isn’t a big deal. It is, and I’m still waiting for my trophy (I guess that will come after I stop calling this an experiment).
What I mean, though, is that I sort of expected my life to be a series of one annoyance after another without the iPhone to smooth out the bumps. I had this image of getting stuck 20 times a day in situations that only instant Internet access could solve.
The actual switch was nothing. I took my sim card out of my smartphone and put it in my new flip phone. (I’m middle-aged, so obviously I needed my teenage neighbor’s help with this. My own teens weren’t home for the summer.) We switched my contacts over (again, thank you, neighbor’s teen), which took a little time but nothing terrible. But then I saw my texts weren’t going through, so I had to spend some time on the phone with Verizon sorting it out.
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