Forgive me readers, for I have sinned (against the self-imposed rules of the 2002 Experiment).
On Tuesday, I fell off the rails. I wanted to post the side-by-side photos of Alex and I for my anniversary blog so I futzed around on my phone in an image editor app and then, of course, I had to email them to myself.
If you give a mouse a cookie, she’s gonna keep breaking the rules, I guess.
A time traveler from 2019 came to 2002 and handed me a hockey-puck-shaped robot vacuum that travels from rug to hardwood seamlessly and picks up all of the little pieces of dirt and crap that gets tracked into our house. We are barefoot house people and stepping on tiny stones or bits of food drives me crazy. This robot vacuum? It’s a doggone miracle, a little floor-cleaning sister-wife. I used it. I used it, okay? After writing my anniversary blog, I emerged from my office to crystal clean floors and breathed a sigh of relief.
That afternoon, I went to Walgreens and couldn’t find the nasal spray that The Baby’s doctor had recommended. The pharmacists, in their bright white coats, were working quietly at their elevated tables, surrounded by stockpiles of neatly organized medicines. There was no line at the counter. They were practically begging me to need their assistance, but instead of asking them, I unlocked the browser on my phone for the first time in twelve days and googled to make sure Walgreens had it.
I then went to Kroger and the coffee I was purchasing had a bright yellow tag on the shelf. “SAVE $2 WITH A COUPON IN THE APP!”
$2? In this economy?
I swiped open the Kroger app and added that coupon, scanning my cart for other potential savings.
When I got home, I plopped on the couch and got drawn into reading my old blogs on my blog app. On the app! It was a passive scrolling, a silent plea of pleasegodhelpdistractme iwilldoanythingtonotbebored. Hilariously, I’d gone to the library earlier in the day and watched a man mindlessly scroll through facebook on his laptop. Sad, I’d thought, shaking my head at the state of the modern world, as if I wasn’t going to go home and do the same thing.
SAD
I used my phone for 37 minutes on Tuesday. 37 freaking minutes! That’s more screentime than my entire first week of the experiment combined!
“I’ll have to think of a punishment for myself,” I told Alex at dinner on Tuesday, immediately softening. “No, not a punishment. A consequence.”
As partial penance, yesterday, I channeled my inner Mother Teresa at Costco and stood in a very long line to be checked out by a cashier instead of the self-checkout, even though I only had two items. (Although self-checkout did not exist in 2002 and I shouldn’t be using it anyway, so I guess I have been cheating there too.)
I thought about pushing my technology back five years for each infraction (from 2002 to 1982). Alex did buy me a boombox for our anniversary, a little square CD player and cassette tape combo. I guess I could go up to Half Price Books and dig through their box of cassettes, hoping to find something I recognize, maybe Ace of Base or Boyz II Men. 1982 technology feels so alien, I might as well go back to 1950 and excitedly tune my vacuum-tube radio dial to Amos & Andy or The Bing Crosby Show.
Except…
This whole undertaking is an experiment. Scientists don’t punish the rats if they don’t do what they’re supposed to. They just note it in their notebooks and try again or try something new.
I am scientist and I am rat. So, instead of finding new and inventive ways to torture myself, I should just observe what happened.
What did using my phone and the Roomba help me avoid? Vacuuming and sweeping, talking to strangers, losing out on $2, being alone with my thoughts.
Hmm. Interesting.
Noted.
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