Texting Schmexting.

Smart gadget.

Sheba, my undisclosed spouse, is now absorbed into hand held devices. The very same devices she once railed against when daughters and later grandkids were buried face down over while sitting at our dining table. Daughters and their kids fiddled, tapped, and swiped on while hunched over picking at grandma’s quickly cooling Sunday meals she slaved over. Much to Sheba’s seething and dismay.
But now! Gram is totally engrossed in her own wretched device. What use to be a nice morning chat at our breakfast is now shrouded in a cloud of silence. But with the exception of rapid tat tap typing and ending with a whoosh sound at the end. But before I can inject a half sentence, here comes a loud PING. Ping representing incoming messages. Often it’s ping ping and ping in rapid succession. And guess who Sheba is whooshing and pinging? Her very own kids and grandkids.
So, I just have to eat my medium poached eggs in silence. Anybody looking for a talking breakfast partner? Glad to talk about books I’ve read or how my sour dough starter is developing. Whoosh!

Published by OkieMan

I come from a family who migrated from the parched red dirt Plaines of southern rural Oklahoma. Migrating to blue collar working class community of East Los Angeles. There is where I was born. I am Mr. Writermelon. I can only write what my grammar and spell checker allows. I am neither profound nor profane. Boy howdy! Send comment to: Mr.writermelon@gmail.com

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