It is early in the morning and my alarm has just gone off. I roll over, my eyes not yet open, and reach for my devoted companion—my iPhone. It has laid quietly beside me on the nightstand all night. I am so thankful for its silence, having just ended a relationship with someone whose snores kept me up all night. With my phone, I turn on “do not disturb” and, bless its sweet battery, it doesn’t.
I stumble downstairs with my dogs in tow to let them out to do their morning business. “Alexa, turn lights on,” I say. She does.
I stand at the counter where my iPad sits charging, and I visit with friends on Facebook, check my Medium stats, and peek at posts on Instagram and Twitter. I do all this while my Ninja brews my coffee, which was set on delay the night before.
I used to live with a guy who made my coffee for me in the morning, and I loved him for it. He also would send me songs he thought I would like or that made him think of me. Now my Apple Music subscription or Pandora compiles playlists for me.
To figure out what to have for dinner, I jump on my phone to look up a nearby restaurant or a recipe for the ingredients I have on hand. If I need inspiration for my writing, I pop on Pinterest and browse funny and inspirational memes as my muse. When I need entertainment, Netflix knows what I have watched before and what I should watch next.
And so it goes, day after day, my dance with my devices meeting all my demands on a whim.