I'll say it now - I'm an iPhone addict.
Every week, I have to go to a 12 step program designed to wean me off my addiction.* But, you know what? It's not working. You see, to be cured of an addiction you have to want to be cured. I love my iPhone. It's a part of my life. It's never far from my grasp, and I use it many, many times throughout my day. I don't want to be cured.
[caption id="attachment_13153" align="aligncenter" width="509" caption="Paul Pelosi (look at his hands) is also an iPhone addict."]
When I first got my iPhone, I was amazed - due to the superb implementation of the web, that I could actually use it to buy my wife's Christmas presents... from the sofa... while she sat next to me. I would ask her what she wanted, she'd have a little think, then tell me, then I'd buy it, without her even realising her wishes were coming true within seconds of her uttering the words. She might as well have been saying abracadabra. It was magical, and exciting in a way only another iPhone-phile can understand.
This is how my iPhone and I spend the day.
Wake Up Call
Even before I awake, my iPhone is there for me, dragging me from my slumber with the sound of Marimba. Clock has become my Alarm Clock. I've even taught it not to wake me at all at the weekend - at those times my iPhone allows me to dream on (although my daughter does not respect the covenant me and the iPhone have made).