Tomorrow is the big day. No, I’m not getting married or divorced or having a baby. That I know of. Nope, tomorrow I am getting a new phone.

My new phone angst exists on several levels. In no particular order, my concerns include: 1. Buying the wrong phone. 2. Getting the wrong plan. 3. Buying the wrong phone. 4. Getting the wrong plan. 5. Buying the wrong phone. 6. Getting the wrong plan. We could go on like this for days but I think you get the gist of my problem.

I have a new phone, you know. Now it’s going to be the old new phone. If you have been a regular reader you know far more about my phone situation than you ever wanted to. Part of my anxiety about the new new phone (as opposed to the old new phone) is the sheer magnitude of mistakes I made when I bought the old new phone. Would it make calls? Check. Would it text? Check. Would it take photos? Check. (Asterisk.)

If I have one piece of advice to pass on to the next generation it is beware of the asterisk. The younger generations do not care much about the asterisk and they don’t care at all about my advice. This is because they are the people who invented the phones, both the old new ones and the new new ones.

The asterisk about which I would like to warn others deals with the fact that my phone will technically take a photograph. However, because my phone is such a low-end, low-tech, low-everything excuse for a communication device, it won’t do anything with the picture after it takes it. This is because it has no memory. Virtually none. I am sure I have mentioned this (but I can’t remember … no irony there), but my memory is just about as bad as my phone’s is. My phone does have memory. Eight GB. That guffawing you hear in the background is a whole herd of 20 year olds laughing their heads off at the notion of 8 GB of memory. These people go through 8 GB of memory per minute. Where were they when I was buying this thing?

But wait, as they say on late-night TV ads, there’s more. Not only does this phone have only 8 GB of memory, 5.86 GB of it is taken up with the task of keeping itself alive. So that leaves me with 1.14 GB of memory, which is just about enough to do … nothing. So yes, virtually no usable memory. It appears that of all the phones in all the joints in all the world, (sorry Humphrey Bogart) I had to choose the one with dementia.

Thus, tomorrow is the day. My current phone came with 1,500 texts. This sounded like plenty of texts until I, you know, started texting. Then came the discovery that texting is only slightly less addicting than heroin. That’s the bad news. The good news is, unlike heroin, texts are cheap. I have 120 texts remaining. That, it is to be hoped, will last me through the night.

I’m getting an iPhone 6. This phone has the following very attractive features: 1. It will fit into the pocket of my jeans. 2. It does not cost $1,000. 3. It has the full backing of Steve Jobs, which means somewhat less than it used to. 4. It has the full backing of Apple Care. This means approximately the world. 5. Every 10n year-old child in the known universe knows everything about it so if Apple Care is busy I’m still not completely out of options.

I am not getting the iPhone 6-S because, I am sure without having a shred of empiric proof, that the “S” is nothing but trouble. But I’ll ask a 10 year old just to be sure.