Texting piece of shit.

Linda has been getting more and more texts.  (I never get any -- I don't want any.)  What's more, her ringtone is this incredibly annoying horror sound.

So lately, every time we're having a heart to heart, or I'm trying to tell her something about a beautiful story I just read, or I'm reading something to her -- or just asking how her day is, right at the moment where normally the deepest connection might be made, the point of the story, the dramatic conclusion -- along comes this horror sound and completely stomps on it.

For instance.  Sometimes you read a story so good you just have to share it.  I read one this morning that sent shivers down my spine. I mean, go read it!

 I just had to tell Linda:

The article was on the Big Picture blog;  It is about an Italian fabric maker whose company failed because of globalization, and the guy tells a story about a famous designer who asked for a special periwinkle color from a photograph from the sixties that he wanted reproduced and how his workers told him it was impossible but he told them it was for this designer and they agreed and they toiled and toiled to get it right and finally they delivered and they waited anxiously for the answer and the answer was  --  the designer wanted to wait to see it in sunlight.  So then the owner was afraid to tell his workers, thinking they would roll their eyes or be upset but when he did, they all nodded as if to say they were glad to be working for a master and one of the workers comes up to the narrator and tugs him on the sleeve and says....


ERRREERRERERRREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

"What the fuck!  Where's that fucking phone!  I'm throwing it out the window, dammit!"

I swear, I'm not talking to my wife again unless she gets rid of the texting piece of shit.