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The telltale pop of glass breaking was barely audible; my ears reached for gossamer threads of sound, not quite registering.  The sun hit the pavement with a silent uproar, I squinted unbelieving as I reached for the one device.  Turning over myPhone I gasped.  Disaster!!  Faceplant from shoulder hieght, a sickening scrunch of concrete and glass.  Amazingly,  the touch screen still functioned; albeit through razor sharp spikes of glass, and myPhone continued to operate properly.  My first response to any kind of crisis is to call my manager, and she just made fun of me.  “Nice one.” She says.  Before long I had pulled up the website for this iPhone repair company, ipodjuice. The prices shocked me but the testimonials soothed me, it was just the glass that was broken.  At the corner of Everett and 7th I open PDX Bus, my ride is right on time.  Once home I made the deal online, and I used the phone the rest of the night.  The following day I removed my SIM card and shipped the little bugger off.  USPS Expess for twenty-five bucks got me next day by noon with insurance, another hickie to the billfold.  Flashforward to present time; ten or so hours later, I feel slightly retarded.  I haven’t heard any good music all day, I have a dozen emails to read, to tweet I have to sit down!!  I didn’t get to talk to my Dad on his birthday, had to leave a message with Perez’s phone.  myPhone has become an extenal drive for my brain, a third lobe.  Removing it has been disorienting and odd.  I’ll go over a week before it allegedly will return from Texas, where it’s being repaired.  This isn’t the first apple product I’ve smashed, I have a feeling it won’t be the last.