Image via WikipediaWith all the hoopla about Apple's latest iPhone problems, I've been thinking about things that get re-designed or "upgraded" and end up being less than satisfactory. And what do we do with the old ones? Okay, some of the stuff I'm going to talk about may not seem as fancy schmancy as the iPhone 4, but IT'S MY BLOG! Dammit. But I really did have to stifle a laugh when I saw the disaster that became the iPhone 4. All of that hype, all of that excitement, and all it would do is drop calls. Yeah, put all of your attention into the appearance and these things called "apps" and "oooh, it does this! and it does that!". And forget that it's supposed to be a PHONE, you idiots.
First of all, why change something that works just fine the way it is? I spent a long time looking for a bra the other day because all a person can find these days are these foam type cups that are supposed to "smooth" out the look of your bust, I guess. But all they do for me is make me feel like I'm a massive, over-stuffed double D. I hate them. And since when are subtle traces of nipples on a person's top so disgusting or unappealing? I mean, they're BREASTS for pete's sake. They're supposed to have nipples!! Personally, I believe that the truth is that young women simply want to look bigger. Of course they do. I guess I was exemplifying exactly that when as an 11-year-old, I got a bra from my Aunt in Denmark who had never seen me and didn't know I was flat as a pancake. I put it on and stuffed it with Kleenex, like any girl would do, excited to have her first bra. Two boys asked me if they could come to my house after school. I guess it worked.
But I'm 53 now, for crying out loud. I have no desire to lure anyone with the size of my boobs anymore. It would be disturbing if someone wanted to come to my house after seeing me in one of those foamy bra things. I'd be calling 9-1-1.
Well, after hours of searching I finally found what I was looking for at Sears. The real slap in the face was that the bras that I ended up buying actually cost three times as much as those foam-stuffed things. Hopefully they'll last three times as long. Things are just not made to last anymore.
For awhile now we've been using a crappy old microwave that my husband inherited from work because our "new" one pooped out on us after only a couple of years. The very first microwave we got was given to us as a wedding present 26 years ago. It lasted almost 24 years. Stoves and fridges and washers and dryers are lucky to last 10 years, if that, anymore.
My father calls it "built in obsolescence". And it makes sense, doesn't it? Why would a company want to make ANYTHING that lasts 24 years? That means it's going to take 24 years for them to get any more money out of you. That goes for anything electronic. In this case, it's not even that they can't make something as good as they used to. It's that they don't want to. And I won't even go into this madness for the next "great" technology that has taken over the universe. Holy crap, how many 2- or 3-year-old cellphones are there out there lying around unused because their owners don't actually even care to use them for their expected (short) life spans, because the next iPhone has come along? Sheesh!
Okay, I'm calmer now.
But where do we put all of this stuff when it stops working or suddenly doesn't suit us anymore? For me, it's in the basement. There are a couple of old TVs down there, a gazillion cassette tapes (nobody uses those anymore!), some old books of my Dad's, wires, boxes of boxes, two space heaters that barely lasted two years each, two fans, same thing, a dead coffeemaker, a couple of old computers and monitors, boxes of my daughter's stuff (hopefully they going to take it with them when they move out?), some of my brother's stuff, and the rest I can't remember because it's been so long since I've even looked through it all. A few years ago, I convinced my husband to spend the money to hire one of those junk hauling companies to empty out the garage and some old stuff from the basement. I was so relieved to get rid of it all. And then, much to my horror, it seemed only months before the basement filled up again. How did that happen?
Tomorrow I have to go to Richmond and pick up my mother's secretary/desk, a beautiful piece of furniture that I always loved because it was hers. And I have no idea where I'm going to put it. Years ago I fantasized about having that piece of furniture, and now it's just another (rather large) thing that I don't have room for. I guess when I was younger, it was all about acquiring stuff. You moved out and took your stuff with you, and when you could afford it, you bought more stuff to fill your place with. And you dreamed about the "big" stuff like a car or a house, until you could at least afford a car loan or a mortgage. And then you filled your new house with more stuff, until your kids came along and you had to move into a bigger house to be able to fit them and their stuff...
Okay, that's how it happens.
But I don't want all of these things anymore. And having to deal with my parents' stuff because they are at the point where they can't take care of it and don't have room for it leaves me (and my siblings and many others I'm sure) with this enormous pile of someone else's stuff that I've never even wanted. I guess my parents didn't plan on being stuck with so many things either. We don't realize when we're younger, that the things we think we want will eventually just become the things we have to find a way to get rid of. I put that in bold so that when I read it again later, I will remember.
How did I get on this whole rant? Oh yes, cellphones. Well, the last several months I've been at the end of my contract with my cellphone company and had nothing but offers for the "newest" and "latest" new cellphone. Complete with another 3-year contract of course. My old cellphone works just fine, but like all other technology geeks I am tempted by these new offers. Except, unlike younger geeks, every time I think about a new one, I can't think of what to do with my old one. Nobody in my house wants it and it's such an old model that I know for sure it isn't going to become one of those "refurbished" ones. This particular cell provider talks about recycling your old phone...but what do they really do with it? I have hellish visions of poor people in third world countries working for next to nothing taking these electronic things apart and breathing in and handling horrible toxins from their components.
I call it my old cellphone, but is it really? After three years, oddly enough it hasn't died on me. Crap.