Rhymes with Horizon

A handful of weeks ago I noted the following:

I also learned that my cell phone can mostly survive (mostly, meaning the battery indicator seems a little off-kilter, and I can no longer use the “down” button on the keypad) one trip through the spin cycle in my pants. I’m not going to try for two trips.

Turns out, not so much. Five days ago, the phone went into eternal “searching for signal” mode, which, according to the technician at the store today, means that some delicate piece of electronics inside the phone has been quietly and slowly turning itself into fuzz ever since the poor piece of equipment went through the laundry. “How’d it get wet?” was the first thing he said to me. Not even my eco-friendly detergent could save it, apparently.

I don’t know if you’ve ever actually read the small print on the tag when you get a wireless phone. Here, in brief, is what it says: You’re screwed if you need to replace me before the contract period says it’s okay. Two hundred dollars later, I have a new phone that I’m sealing in a plastic bag at all times.