At five-thirty the other morning as he lay next to me in bed, my husband could hear the roll and click of my Blackberry as I read my email.
Work email. Freelance email. Facebook. PMs from blogs I visit.
Oh, and I have The Paper of Record's opinion page tagged so I can read Krugman 24/7.
Husband opened his eyes and looked at me and said, "Do you think you have a problem?"
I do have a problem. My name is Amy and I'm addicted to my Blackberry.
Today I made the executive decision that I'm going back to a regular cell phone. I got the Blackberry when I started my new job in December, and I'm given the grand total of fifty dollars a month for it. That barely pays for the increase for the Internet service, let alone the phone service which I use all day long to deal with customers in my day job.
Like Pavlov's dog, I'm always responding to the little red light, waiting for an electronic treat.
If the office wants me to have e-mail at the ready, they can pay for it. Just call me an old-fashioned girl. Or you can text me.
