Heather's phone has entered into an advanced state of deterioration, brought on by years of hard use, drops, washes, toddler abuse, and a clumsy husband.
It has officially blown through cell-phone middle age and is headed for the recycling center with astonishing rapidity.
In fact, I call it the "Bikini Phone" because it is now in two pieces. The only thing holding the old geezer together is a thin electrical connection strip. It's almost impossible to take a call on.
Heather would already have replaced this phone by now, but we are getting our new iPhones on the 24th and she only has 8 days left to hobble this thing along.
We half-jokingly discussed burying it in the yard in a small family-only ceremony, with cookies and milk afterwards.
