The week’s destiny was set even before it began, even before the previous week had ended. It was Thursday night and my mind was set on the weekend. I was predisposed to enjoy my night seeing as I was achieving my dream of wearing overalls and Doc Martens to a party. I looked at my phone and tried to decipher the time amidst the ~aesthetically~ cracked screen— a souvenir from the weekend before. But that was a minor inconvenience, no reason to set my week array. But then, I started to dance.
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Suddenly, an unexplainable phenomenon swept through the sweaty basement. Despite my pocket-laden overalls, my excitement at wearing them became too much for sensibility to contain. In a moment that would change everything, a moment that will be shot in slow motion in the movie about my life starring Leighton Meester, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. In the moment, I’m sure I wanted to check the time, take a picture, send a regrettable text, but in hindsight it was a mistake.
Not 2 Mississippian-seconds later, it was face down on the floor. But, my source of excitement soon became my source of salvation! The joy of wearing overalls at a party (something mid-2000s movies like John Tucker Must Die would warn against) enabled me to remain happy and tranquil while I picked up my phone and learned that it had died.
Barring the slight challenges of repairing it the following day, the distress of breaking my phone proved surmountable. What was insurmountable, however, was the jealous wrath of my computer, who decided to shatter its screen the following morning. Wearing sweatpants instead of overalls, I certainly did not react with as much ~poise~ as I had Thursday evening.
But despite all this, I learned something very important: It is only slightly socially unacceptable to cry in an Apple Store.
