i-Phone Widow

You've heard of hockey widows right? In fact I am one, which I don't mind at all. Having 2 or 3 nights a week to myself to paint my toenails, bake muffins, or if I'm really lucky and the game falls on a Friday, to watch "What Not to Wear" in peace is a really good thing. Especially when you live in Edmonton and know that chances of this schedule going beyond early April in any given year are slim (year to note as the exception: 2006 which is why I was delivering my baby to the sound of game 3 of the final series of the Stanley Cup final on the radio). So hockey widowery (is that a word?) has its perks for sure. But I am in the midst of another type of virtual death of my husband which is a little less satisfying. This I call becoming the gadget widow. At present I specifically have become the i-Phone widow. Unlike the hockey obsession, this one is full time, 24-7 for however long it takes for the novelty of the latest device to wear off. And let me tell you, that damn MacIntosh company can pack a heck of alot of features into a little seemingly harmless device. This is a loss of any sort of attention, conversation, interest in anything real-life that I do occasionally desire from my life companion. Even while driving, when I try to squeeze some sort of conversation out of him, all I get is "mmm-hmmm" while a far off distant gaze is thinking what he can download next, what other device he can sync it to , where he can show off it's video out capabilities...I just want to plan our summer vacation. Mayson is right now standing in the living room saying "Daddy, daddy, daddy, bath please" while he is downloading music, occasionally grunting "uh-huh", without looking up.
I guess the good thing about this kind of death is that they do eventually come back from the dead. They learn all they need to learn about the gadget and all I have left to do is buy a bigger stacked drawer organizer to put next to the phone on the desk to house yet another electronic device that gets hauled around daily along with the other 5, which will always end up sitting on my breakfast bar and not in the drawer organizer anyway. This time it's been okay though because I suppose I have made him a bit of a pregnancy widower with my constant napping, going to bed at 8pm and being so exhausted, nauseated and grouchy when I am awake that I am not much fun to be around anyway. So this time, the timing worked out. But there is always a next time, and it usually bugs the piss out of me when he gets that way. So while I am not mourning now, the next death will hurt more. I know that Sleepynita can relate.