When my smart-ish phone died on a Thursday, I had a full-on-princess-problem-anxiety-aneuyrsm. The Do Not Resuscitate App* that suddenly appeared on my nearly ancient iPhone 5 tipped me that it was time to secure hospice care. Admittedly, I had been dancing with fire. My phone had lived a very full and rewarding life for nearly three whole years. So, it powered down one last time,…
