I suffer from cell-phone avoidance and separation anxiety. I hate the damn thing. I feel guilty when I don't have it with me. If I miss a call, I freak out and dial the last nine numbers received in order to get back in touch with the person who called, hating the whole procedure.
I see my mother's number pop up and feel guilty for not answering. On the other hand, I know if I DO answer, it will be at least an hour of my life used up discussing...well, all those things we discuss with our mothers:
"Have you lost more weight?"
"Yes. Only three-fourths of a pound this week."
"That cough sounds terrible. When are you going to quit smoking?"
"I don't know, Ma."
"Just think about what your skin looks like now compared to four years ago. I can tell a difference, honey."
"Mom...um, we're gonna eat. Can I let you go?"
"Let me go? What kind of phrase is that--let me go? No, you can't let me go. Where did you learn to speak? What is it with these phrases?"
And on and on. Love you, Mom!

But the best cellular dysfunction I've had is this:
I received a text message. I don't look at the number, I just read the text.

"I love you!" says the message. 'Oh, it's from Michael!' I think.
"I love you, too!" I write back. "I missed you this morning!" (I sleep in when he leaves and am generally in a total zombie state).
An hour later: "You missed me this morning? How could you miss me this morning?" says the return text. I'm confused and don't return the text. Michael is being funny?
A half hour later, I receive this text, "You know, the next time you tell someone you love them, make sure you know who the hell you're talking to!"
Now I'm simply peeved...what the hell is Michael's problem? Before I can text back, I get this, "I wasn't even there this morning! WHO WAS THERE?"

The phone rings. The twang of a toothless man is heard rattling my phone.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? Who was in your bed this morning? Who you been sleepin' with? You better start explaining yourself, woman!"
"Uh, sir? I don't think this is who you think this is."
"Wha..?"

He had been texting my phone all day, thinking it was his girlfriend's number. The girlfriend who he DID NOT spend the night with. oops. Guess I'm not the only one with cellular dyslexia.