My phone decided to commit suicide in the night. All that remained this morning was a random arrangement of pixels like a fizzing paraffin sheen (and an invoice from Dignitas). Life had got unbearable, or so the note I found said. I couldn't make any calls (even to the emergency services) because tapping the screen resulted only in a splutter of buzzes and a death rattle of clicks.
So, with a heavy heart this morning, I gave Orange a call to arrange for the body to be removed (and a replacement delivered). This they readily agreed to and confirmed it would be shipped today, for delivery between 6pm and 10pm tonight. This meant a mad dash home to get the phone backed up (as best I could with little left of the screen to guide me) so I could dispose of the dead one and take delivery of its brand spanking new replacement.
Because of all this there was no time for my planned swim tonight and so I consolled myself by eating my own bodyweight in cheese today. I've noticed that cheese is often my prop, my comfort blanket, my diversion activity. At times of stress, I often turn to cheese for support. I'd be great in an emergency situation as long as there's a readily available supply of cheese. Today, I munched my way through a packet of Edam slices whilst in work this afternoon and nibbled on a block of Jarlsberg when I got home.
The courier came at about 6:30pm and now I feel a little sick.
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