My iCloud storage is full and I don’t care.
I get emails about this every day along with associated threats like my “documents, contacts, mail, and device data are no longer backing up” and my “photos and videos are not uploading to iCloud Photo Library.” Then the emails tell me that I can upgrade to 50 GB of iCloud storage for $.99 a month.
It seems a small price to pay for such enormous storage capacity but it feels like extortion to me so screw it, I’m not paying it.
I say this with bravado even while I wonder which valuable photo will fall out of the Cloud into the netherworld where its location will be a mystery and I will be doomed to pine for eternity for what might have been.
Today I bought picture frames, an armful of them.
I decided I should print and frame the family photos that were shot last summer and for which I paid an arm and a leg. So I bought frames on sale and used coupons. I watched the clerk wrap each one in butcher paper, folding and taping the edges like the frames were art I was taking overseas instead of fifty feet to the trunk of my car. She was so earnest in this work that it made me ashamed that I’d not framed the photos sooner. I should take more care about things, I thought, not be so careless.
I think of this and believe it to be true but it doesn’t change my demeanor. I am uncaring. Lately. For the moment.
I am just floating around, sleeping, waking, eating, working, driving. I lack a sense of urgency. About anything.
I criticize groups for this. Organizations working with people who are homeless or people with mental illness. “You lack a sense of urgency!” I exclaim. And then I get in my car and drive away. Should I get coffee from a coffee shop, I wonder, or go home and make instant? I like Bustelo an awful lot.
I am an amoeba floating in a petri dish. See me.