My phone broke in December. I limped grumpily along for a while, intending to fix it. Getting to the service center in Far Outer Talpiot was pretty much never a priority.

At this point, I have accepted my outsider status in Israeli society. I am a person without a cellphone.

If people need to find me, they have to email me or leave a message on my home phone.
I’m not always available at the exact moment that people want me.

I have to plan things in advance.

Less gets done.

I’m not able to call friends and “process” their ears off every time I’m having some emotion.

The fact that my discman is also busted means that when I walk around town, I’m required to have my brain in the same place as my feet.

It’s pretty freakin’ awesome.

(Of course, I’ll sign back up with Satan once I return to the States, but for the moment I’m rather enjoying this, I gotta say.)