8:25 AM: My iPhone is sad today. I'm not really sure what the problem is. Usually on Saturdays we get up early and I make us breakfast, but this morning it doesn't seem interested. I made dinosaur-shaped pancakes — its favorite — and steamed 1% milk for its chai latte. No "thank you," no "nice triceratops," hardly a grunt or a marimba chime. Not that every last thing I do for my iPhone has to be praised, of course. It's just that Saturday breakfast is one of our favorite parts of the week, other than maybe watching "Mad Men" together, or updating apps. 8:40 AM: Come to think of it, my iPhone has been acting weird all week. Wednesday I brought home some breaded tilapia and wild rice from Trader Joe's, with yellow peppers from the green grocer on Court Street. Well my goodness, my iPhone just lay there on the coffee table, half watching "Pardon the Interruption" on ESPN and half staring out the window. How often do I have time to cook us a nice meal? I work all day too, you know.
10:15 AM: I wish my iPhone would tell me what's wrong. Honestly, it's never like this. After nine o'clock, I started reading through live blogs of the iPad release, and I could have sworn I heard my iPhone make some kind of noise. I checked it for messages, but there was nothing. Was it something I said? Am I forgetting something? It's definitely not our anniversary yet — I remember June 20, 2009 like I remember my own birthday. How could I forget the day of the iPhone 3G S release? I gave it an extra iTunes sync, just in case.
12:20 PM: Okay seriously, what the hell? Today is completely gorgeous, and I don't think it's fair that I be cooped up all afternoon just because my iPhone is in a shit mood. I suggested we take a walk over to Park Slope while listening to “OK Computer,” nothing. I suggested we search for nearby cafes and browse real-time reviews to see who has the best chocolate croissant, nothing. I downloaded the new “Wait Wait … Don’t Tell Me” over Wi-Fi, because God forbid I use my forty dollar 3G connection for that, but no. Nothing. My iPhone simply can’t be bothered to get off its ass today, for whatever reason.
2:40 PM: This is beyond frustrating. I just wish my iPhone would let me in. Where on Earth is this melancholy coming from? Why does it keep its feelings so bottled up? Doesn’t it know I want to share those feelings, that I want to be a part of its life? It doesn’t matter how much music I stream on Pandora, or how many notes I take on Dragon Dictation, or how often I check Mindy Kaling’s tweets on TweetDeck. If my iPhone builds a wall around itself, brick by brick, then we will never truly connect.
3:15 PM: Really shaken up right now. For the love of Steve, all I did was mention in passing that we could go over to the SoHo Apple Store and check out the iPad in person. Jesus, you would have thought I was talking about some sleazy Verizon outlet. Suddenly my iPhone was all like, "Why, so you can replace me?" The worst part was its tone, so ... vicious. I played it off like a joke, but it wouldn't let up. "The thing can't even make calls, you know." After putting up with its bullshit all day, I was in no mood to roll over. "That's not what it's for, and you know it. It's not a phone, it's a whole new category of mobile device." Wow, was that ever the wrong move. "Oh, so now you're defending it? What, are you thinking of getting one? Huh? Are you gonna buy your precious little iPad?" That one stung me, because I thought my iPhone knew me better than that. "Excuse me, I never buy first generation hardware." That got it all passive aggressive. "Whatever. It's a fucking iPod with a thyroid problem." I stormed out.
4:05 PM: Brought the MacBook. Using Wi-Fi at Starbucks. Man is it a pain to lug this thing around.
4:55 PM: This is all my fault. I should have known today would be hard for my iPhone. I should have been more supportive. From now on, I will be completely devoted. If it can just see how much I care, then everything will be alright.
5:00 PM: My iPhone is sad today. And if my iPhone is sad, then so am I.