I'm just sitting here at my laptop in my dining room. My sister is under the dining room table taking a power-nap break from her math homework. My phone is sitting next to my computer and it's dying. I should be doing homework, but how can I be expected to focus when something so close to me is on its death bed?
Every so often, my phone beeps weakly. It is a desperate call for help. Beep. Please Laura, just charge me. Please. Please. I feel guilty, get distracted from my homework, contemplate walking downstairs to plug my phone into the charger. But then my phone is silent for a while and my mind wanders away from my dying phone and back to making adjusting entries in accounting journals. I'm productive for a time. I work away at homework until it beeps again. Just once. That's all it has energy for. Beep. I just want to tell it to quit complaining; I charged it two hours ago for crying out loud. Shouldn't it be satisfied? But then I remember that that is no way to treat the sick and afflicted.
My sister stays deeply involved in her power-napping under the table until my phone sends out another plea. Beep. She surfaces and I get reprimanded, "Your phone is driving me nuts. Shut it off."
"Show sympathy. It's dying here."
"Well let it die in silent mode."
So, I push the down arrow until the phone reaches the I'm-totally-silent-and-I-won't-squeak-even-if-I'm-about-to-kill-over-and-die mode. My sister is satisfied, puts her sweater over head, and crawls back under the table.
And now, I'm just sitting here feeling guilty. If I had bad-battery-itis, I would be pretty upset if someone covered my mouth with duct tape so that I couldn't even ask for help. But I don't feel guilty enough to go downstairs and get the charger. Because for goodness sakes, I did just charge my phone a couple hours ago. It shouldn't even be dying yet. And to demonstrate my anger, I'm just going to let it die. In silent mode.
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