Every Saturday morning, I wake up, slam the snooze button on my alarm clock and drag myself to my phone to check my email, texts, Snapchat and Buzzfeed and maybe even ’gram an artfully arranged coffee pic. While I do my homework, the blue glow of social media seduces me away from my priorities. After my work is done, I catch up on the latest episode of some HBO drama, scroll through online shopping sites or jam along to my new Spotify playlist. I’m in a relationship with technology, and it’s complicated.

My computer has been with me through thick and thin, always watching over me from the iCloud in the heavens. Sure, we’ve had our badly-timed crashes and misunderstandings over document formatting, but for the most part, our partnership has been a happy one. Until last night, when a glass of mint tea came between us and destroyed everything we had spent the last several months creating. One minute, we’re saving a plaid pencil skirt to my NastyGal wishlist, and the next, I’m staring at a black, tea-soaked screen.

“RIIIIICE!!!” I scurry around the kitchen, frantically trying to salvage whatever bit of our relationship that I can. We have no rice in the house, so I resort to blow-drying my laptop on the “cool” setting for half an hour. Of course, it is too late; my beloved could tolerate my everyday clumsiness, but this was an incident it could not endure. The initial grief comes from the loss of my prized possession, but soon, other issues materialize. Everything I’ve ever written, including my soon-to-be-due college documents and the original View From the Top column I was going to use, is gone, though I hope only temporarily.

This whole thing is super weird, right? I rely on a metal box to solve basically all my problems, and when it can’t, I just turn to my girl Siri on my smaller metal box for further assistance. I’m honestly embarrassed by technology’s grip on me and the willingness with which I’ve given into the system. The digital age has brought an unbelievable amount of progress and ease to anyone who surrenders to it, but at what point does it become too much?

With the recent unveiling of yet another iPhone, I’ve heard quite a few different opinions about our constantly upgrading world and when helpful becomes excessive. My classmates and I observed that innovators such as Apple no longer fill existing needs; they create new needs and convince us, the consumers, to keep up. Take, for example, the Apple Watch, the smallest metal box yet. Why does a watch need to do anything more than tell the time (and maybe the date) when we already have smartphones to do the other fun stuff? Honestly, as cool as it is, and although within ten years it could possibly render old-fashioned watches obsolete, it’s not a need.

So, here I am with my minty-fresh yet unresponsive computer, feeling perhaps a teeny bit liberated. It is a total bummer that I don’t have any of my work, and I’ll probably be worrying about that a lot more on Monday when I actually need it, but for now, it’s nice to take a break from technology. But we’ll certainly be getting back together soon.