My iPhone has been broken for a while now, and I've been more than okay with it. Yes, I've missed playing Words With Friends with my worthy-opponent-mother, but other than that, I haven't felt too alone without it.
Until my other ipod broke. It just died. No explanation, no fritz, no sparks, just death. A blank screen and no hope of a battery recharge or a system reset.
I don't do well without music.
In the absence of my iphone, I had been using my mother's old Nokia flip phone.
That is, until the flip phone died. Now, it still has a little life left in it, but only enough to let you get a glimpse of the screen before it shuts off again. It is utterly useless. (And I outta know something about utters being useful.)
So I retired the flip phone. I am now resigned to the solution of using my iPhone because it is actually cheaper to pay for a data plan for the remainder of our cell phone contract than to try and purchase a new phone.
The timing of all these events, however, is the real kicker to this story. You see, this all happened last Thursday around 6:00pm. In case you aren't aware of the context, this was about 9 hours before we loaded the bus for...
(a youth group weekend in Gatlinburg where I was in charge!....and thus in DESPERATE need of a cell phone!!!!)
So, Nathan was at work and I was car-less, and even if I hadn't been, it was too late to go to the only close Apple store on the North side of town (still a 45 minute drive). So I dug around for a while and finally found a solid case that could cover the shattered screen on my iPhone. It worked...mostly. The shattered glass was held in place under a thick layer of hard plastic. But, besides the occasional shards of glass that would slip out from under the plastic and slice my hand, the shatter was directly over the button for the phone, hence I could not make calls.
(Do you sense the frustration building?)
So, I decided to check the mail, on the off chance that my replacement screen had come in a week early.
Much to my disbelief, there was a package in the mail containing a replacement tool kit and a new, pretty glass screen for my iPhone.
So I commenced the replacement process.
I opened the package to find it contained NO instructions, so I Googled a "how to" video tutorial, found one that looked legitimate, and got the process underway.
After 2 1/2 hours of unsuccessful screw removal (those screws are no bigger than a piece of pepper, I swear), I was just about to my wits end. I had already Facebooked my husband to tell him that my phone wasn't working, so I decided to Facebook my dear friend Elizabeth and ask for her help (she's an engineer. If anybody could get this thing working, it was her).
Neither one of us having yet packed for the oncoming weekend extravaganza, and the clock now pushing 9pm, Elizabeth and I sat around my coffee table (her eyeglass screwdriver in hand) attempting to disassemble and reassemble my poor, poor phone. After another couple of hours, we were on the upswing and were about to re-insert the new screen. As she popped the screen into place, there was a tab left sticking out at the top of the iPhone, but the phone worked! I assumed this tab was merely an extra, meant to help you hold onto the glass as you inserted it, and so, without hesitation, I snipped it off.
After that epic scissor snip, I then realized that what I had clipped was a ribbon cable, not an extra piece of plastic.
Bad Kacey, BAD.
The phone still works, mind you, but the touch sensor does not. I clipped the single most important component to the iPhone, and now I can't even turn it off, because even that requires a touch slide to do so.
At this point, I was hysterical. I cried and I yelled and I'm pretty sure I scared Elizabeth (even though I felt like DIRT for wasting two hours of her night with my stupidity). I told her to just go home and pack because there was nothing else we could do...I'd just have to manage the weekend phone-less.
A couple of hours later, my husband arrived home to see my tears and hear my sad sob story.
He chuckled a little bit, and then said, "well why don't you just use my old Tilt phone?" (The phone he had before I'd gotten him a Blackberry for work last year.)
He went upstairs, got the phone out of a secret desk drawer, charged it up, inserted my sim card, and had managed to solve all of my problems in a time-span of about 3 minutes.
I'm ordering another replacement screen for my iPhone, because I still don't have music.
This time, I'm letting Nathan hold the scissors.