By: Gabriela Yareliz
It feels hotter than hot in NYC, lately. Also, how is it almost July? Truly. This is our PSA that summer is waiting for no one. As talk of mayoral election swirls in NYC, people are already looking toward fall. It’s insane. We still have three months of crazy heat left. The trash is melting. The hydrants have been cracked open. The ACs are running even though Con Ed keeps texting me at like 10:38pm to “limit” my “energy use.” Yeah, because now is the time to shut off the AC.
Con Ed needs to stop texting me in the dead of night. Boundaries. Cell phones lack boundaries. Our utility companies harass us as it nears midnight. I have been thinking a lot about landlines. I miss them. I remember spending hours on them talking to friends. One of my oldest friends reminded me of the hours we would spend talking about so much. Good God— every glance in the school hallway was a topic of discussion.
I heard somewhere recently that the pre-cell phone era had mystery to it. That mystery made life wildly interesting. Have we made ourselves boring? Are we too accessible? Back in the 90s, if your boss called you at 8pm, someone better be dead. Now, if you don’t pick up, they think you are dead. I mean what have we come to? My electric company has been my top texter this week.
Sad? Pathetic? A little bit of both? Can we bring the mystery back? The hours of speculation are things the kids of today will never have. It makes me sad.
Con Ed— leave me alone. I even have my Kindle charging.
GABRIELA YARELIZ 