Winston Churchill said, "To improve is to change; to be perfect is to change often."
Well OK, Mr. Churchill. Maybe that is true in the world of cancer research and treatment. Or creating cars that get better gas mileage. Or earthquake and tornado prediction.
But not in Theresa's world.
A dialogue box popped up on my iPhone screen the other day, inquiring about my interest in upgrading to i0S 7.
I don't really understand upgrades and updates when it comes to phones and computers. Usually I just ask my husband Seth, who tells me if my answer should be yes or no. He understands me, and knows what I can tolerate, so he knows what the answer should be.
But I was alone when the box popped up. I panicked.
So I defaulted to his advice about updates on a computer — usually they improve what is already there or offers some sort of protection. So I made a decision and pushed "YES".
An entire sequence of events began, and there were more questions. Questions I didn't know the answers to. Questions about iClouds and passwords.
And before I knew it, my phone had been completely redecorated, polluting and upsetting the delicate balance of synapse connections and well-worn pathways in my brain. When I walked into the house after work, Seth was stretched out in his chair watching television, his reading glasses resting on the end of his nose.
"Seth!" I said, a little too loud.
"My phone is all messed up. I said yes to the box. I thought I was doing the right thing and now my phone looks all cartoony. I think the colors might give me seizures. Or a migraine." I was distraught.
He pushed his glasses up his nose to the reading notch. "Let me see it."