Texting into the 21st Century

My family of techno-wizards will be the first to tell you that I am a technological dunce. Modern technology and I do not get along. I still miss my rotary phone – the one in the kitchen with the twenty foot cord. At least I couldn’t lose it! I’m not quite a Luddite, but I come darn close.

Yes, I can use Word, more or less, for typing my manuscripts, but to be honest, it’s not really typing. It’s more of a five fingered peck. I can surf the net for research. I still haven’t figured out Facebook and tweeting just baffles my mind. All of which brings me to today’s further proof of my inability to join the twenty-first century: texting.

After four years, my faithful flip phone died just as I was just becoming used to it. I’m not sure how or why it died. It might have been neglect since I don’t think I used it more than a few dozen times. The Dear Spouse went out and bought me a new phone with something that says Droid. I’ve had it for two months and have only just figured out how to turn the damn thing on. Actually answering it will have to wait for another day.

Today, I tried texting. How do you people do it? It took me three minutes to type ‘Thanks’ while sitting alone at my kitchen table. I’m simply not built for this. My fingers are too fat. I know this because a very patient and polite sixth grade boy told me so while trying to show me how to use my Kindle as a tablet.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Rhoades, but you’re going to have to get a stylus.”

“A stylus?” I asked. I was thinking Egyptian hieroglyphs on a clay tablet – definitely more my speed. “Why?”

“Your fingers are too fat. Oh, um, you’re not fat, just your fingers,” said the kindly little liar.

Now, condense my Kindle down to the size of my phone and you see my problem and purchasing a stylus is beyond reason. I go through pens by the dozen because I can’t keep track of where I put them. A stylus won’t last five minutes in my chubby little hands, but I am determined. I will drag myself kicking and screaming into the current century. It may take me another four years to get there, but I will teach myself to text!

For those of you who live in my neck of the woods, you, at least, are safe from one driver who will never text while driving. I still have to pull over and use two hands to figure out what buttons to push to turn the damn phone on.