One Sunday afternoon last month, I impulsively purchased a new €900 iPhone and put it on my credit card. That very day I also ordered a device to lock myself out of the very same phone. Ah, the duality of woman.
I, like so many of us, have a problematic relationship with my phone. It is my constant companion, a Pandora’s box of entertainment, friends, strangers and Heated Rivalry reels on Instagram. If earning a living wasn’t a necessity and bed sores weren’t a risk factor, I would happily lie around all day, scrolling, laughing, occasionally crying, gasping, learning and filing informative and instructional TikToks into folders I will simply never look at again. Folders with names like “handy DIY bits” and “book ideas?”
I live to scroll. “It’s for…