fomo in 3 parts

1.  I was surprised to hear Mrs. T say no when a friend invited her to an event.  Several days later someone else received a no.  I've become accustomed to it, but it's a rare NO that travels outside the house.

When queried, my bride declaimed: "All your life you have to DO or go...I'm tired of doing nonsensical things I don't want to do."

"Sounds like Modern Maturity has arrived", I quipped.  My age old campaign for staying home has, until now, fallen on deaf ears.  My bride never ceases to amaze me.  

2.  Following up with Liz's father about her birthday, he claims he hasn't seen his daughter's face since she unwrapped her IPhone.  He misses seeing her smile, as her head is forever bowed in what our ancestors would have believed to be prayer and contemplation, a condition modern parents recognize as text syndrome.  

3.  Cooling my heels at the tailor earlier this week I found myself thumbing through an ancient copy of GQ.  GQ asked if I were suffering from FOMO, the fear of missing out - a compulsive concern that one might miss an opportunity for social interaction, a novel experience, profitable investment or other satisfying event?   My kids knew FOMO as the BBD, the bigger, better deal that was just over the horizon. 

I am happy to admit this technical caveman is safe from FOMO's deleterious effects, and believed that so was my bride, until yesterday, when she surprised me by creating  a Facebook account.  She needs Facebook friends to give her extra manpower to play Candy Crush. And so it begins.

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