A number of sexy people tried to telephone me tonight. Their voices careened into daring Kappa curves, crossing into other dimensions. When I heard their susurrations, I thought at first that I was somehow drunk and calling a 1-900 number and paying for someone to purr. But no — these were real people with real salutations. They wanted to say hi.

There were problems — the foremost of them being dead batteries. Yes, it was possible to live in the 21st century with two phones that sputtered out dying calls and responses. Both at the same time. It was a bit like the hot dog and bun contretemps, where both supplies extinguished simultaneously. Or one was useless without the other because the hot dogs were gone and there were still a few buns left. Technology allowed these buns to flourish, but no one had done the basic math.

Because of this basic design fallacy, which spread into every known R&D conduit and the accompanying documentation, you could believe late in the week that the phones would somehow last forever. Fly off into the night! Be cordless and free! You don’t need wires or plugs or cables that curl around your legs and strap you into a spaghetti nightmare. Be liberated!

But no one had thought to program these stunning tools with accountability.

The modern age was supposed to empower us. In fact, I have some hazy memory of a Duracell commercial promising sizable staying power — more stamina than a virgin ready to burst on prom night. But it was all a grand lie. And since the technology was so convenient, we bought in.

So to the fab folks who crooned, many thanks, delights, and my apologies. Some of us are ill-equipped. Or perhaps it’s a matter of demanding basic workarounds from our benefactors.