It has been hell being without my beloved Treo for a week.
I realized that my Treo is my new cigarette. I smoke the thing. It’s not crack. It’s nicotine: a sneaker, day-to-day addiction. I use Treo at all the times I used to smoke: while eating, while walking, while driving (only at stop lights), while talking on the phone (but not to you), while in the bathroom (I admit it). No, Treoing after sex is not oddly satisfying.
In London, my Sprint Treo won’t work, so I used an HP Ipaq. It’s just not the same. The Windows interface is like smoking an unfiltered; it hurts. I couldn’t get the email to work sending my email; thank goodness I could grab all my mail with Gmail and use that instead. I was going nuts having to lift its lid and use that damned stylus. And it just doesn’t look good; it’s like a man smoking a Virginia Slim.
I’m glad to get back home to my Treo. And my family.
