Lacking anything else to blog post about -- well, I do have some things I want to write, but as usual, I don't have the time -- I finally, uh, have the time to blog post about something else.
I want to circle back to the time I successfully switched over to my iPhone XR, which I detailed here. I did it on the date I did it because it represents five years to the day that I upgraded to my previous phone, the iPhone 4. Back in January, once I realized this anniversary, I planned on doing what I did when I switched from my flip phone in 2014: I was going to wake up in the morning, finish recording the rest of my contacts, trim my SIM card so it would fit into my new smartphone, and voila!
But the process was nothing like that -- neither back in January 2019 nor January 2014.
I remembered, for example, that the 4 was a gift from my Hong Kong uncle through Mother. But when I bought my phone from the Apple Store this time, I was surprised that the guy gave me a SIM card too. Just gave me one. I swear, I thought these were, like, gold. Maybe I shouldn't confess this, but I will: I thought a SIM holds your contacts. That is why I wanted to port mine from my flip to my smart. And the Apple Store guy just gave me one like he was offering me gum? Moreover, I played it cool with that guy when my first thought was to ask him, "But how do I get my contacts and preferences onto my new SIM card?"
So me thinking I needed to find an exacto knife and wash the kitchen cutting board in order to meticulously cut down my SIM in order to fit the XR turned out to be completely unnecessary. And still it took some time to make sure I knew what I was doing before I got the, uh, device thingy that came with the SIM to pop open the compartment (no paper clip needed), slip the new card in, breathe in deeply, and doing the deed. After a lot of waiting to get everything up and running, and then calling to make sure they knew I got a new phone, I was done.
After that I blogged. But as I noted, I looked back at my blog post five years ago to the day, just to make sure I got all the details of the sheer hell I went through in order to put my SIM card into the iPhone 4. But I didn't. According to me back in 2014, Mother did all the work for me.
I swear I did it the morning before I went on vacation. But in the months since, I have come to the conclusion that I conflated what I thought I did to what I now think I actually did: I was so broke up over ... uh, I don't remember what I did (and I don't feel like looking back at WAF to see if I can find it), but I did wake up early one morning before going on vacation. However, instead of cutting my SIM to fit it into my new smartphone, I was cutting up pieces of paper and taping them onto my SIM in order to fit it back in my old cellphone. Again, why, I don't remember. But if what I wrote five years ago is true (and why wouldn't it be?), I must've woken up early to do that instead of what I thought I did.
And that saddens me. Not only that I was wrong, but that my memory is so flawed that I eventually believed I did something that, in my estimation, is far from what actually happened. And it worries me, too. It reminds me of Grandmother who, in her last years, had a lot of trouble remembering who I and everybody else was. Is this a sign I'm going down that same path?
I want to circle back to the time I successfully switched over to my iPhone XR, which I detailed here. I did it on the date I did it because it represents five years to the day that I upgraded to my previous phone, the iPhone 4. Back in January, once I realized this anniversary, I planned on doing what I did when I switched from my flip phone in 2014: I was going to wake up in the morning, finish recording the rest of my contacts, trim my SIM card so it would fit into my new smartphone, and voila!
But the process was nothing like that -- neither back in January 2019 nor January 2014.
I remembered, for example, that the 4 was a gift from my Hong Kong uncle through Mother. But when I bought my phone from the Apple Store this time, I was surprised that the guy gave me a SIM card too. Just gave me one. I swear, I thought these were, like, gold. Maybe I shouldn't confess this, but I will: I thought a SIM holds your contacts. That is why I wanted to port mine from my flip to my smart. And the Apple Store guy just gave me one like he was offering me gum? Moreover, I played it cool with that guy when my first thought was to ask him, "But how do I get my contacts and preferences onto my new SIM card?"
So me thinking I needed to find an exacto knife and wash the kitchen cutting board in order to meticulously cut down my SIM in order to fit the XR turned out to be completely unnecessary. And still it took some time to make sure I knew what I was doing before I got the, uh, device thingy that came with the SIM to pop open the compartment (no paper clip needed), slip the new card in, breathe in deeply, and doing the deed. After a lot of waiting to get everything up and running, and then calling to make sure they knew I got a new phone, I was done.
After that I blogged. But as I noted, I looked back at my blog post five years ago to the day, just to make sure I got all the details of the sheer hell I went through in order to put my SIM card into the iPhone 4. But I didn't. According to me back in 2014, Mother did all the work for me.
I swear I did it the morning before I went on vacation. But in the months since, I have come to the conclusion that I conflated what I thought I did to what I now think I actually did: I was so broke up over ... uh, I don't remember what I did (and I don't feel like looking back at WAF to see if I can find it), but I did wake up early one morning before going on vacation. However, instead of cutting my SIM to fit it into my new smartphone, I was cutting up pieces of paper and taping them onto my SIM in order to fit it back in my old cellphone. Again, why, I don't remember. But if what I wrote five years ago is true (and why wouldn't it be?), I must've woken up early to do that instead of what I thought I did.
And that saddens me. Not only that I was wrong, but that my memory is so flawed that I eventually believed I did something that, in my estimation, is far from what actually happened. And it worries me, too. It reminds me of Grandmother who, in her last years, had a lot of trouble remembering who I and everybody else was. Is this a sign I'm going down that same path?
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