It's the first thing I look at bleary, crusty eyed. It's the last thing I look at droopy, dozy eyed. I'm addicted to my phone. R is trying to help rid me of this debilitating (at times) dependency. Last night, he suggested that I stop co-sleeping with the phone (stupid, right?) and move the phone/charger out of the bedroom.
"But... but, it's my alarm clock, too," I stammered, making excuses, as addicts do.
"Then we'll get you another alarm clock for your side," he said in his best reasonable dad-like voice.
I knew it had to do it in order to get well again. I unplugged the charger from behind the headboard and brought it to the kitchen. Proceeded to lay the little guy on our ridiculously bourgie charger the way a teenaged mom lays her bastard infant in the drop drawer at the hospital. And then I said goodbye.
courtney love's flowers
photographed by hedi slimane