Communcation Breakdown

I just merged onto the 101. It's a sharp turn, so I'm accelerating and looking in the rearview, hoping that nobody is about to run over me. I see a little blue object fly through the air and crash on the asphalt. I wonder briefly what it was. Did I hit something? I didn't see anything. I just stopped to get gas, I'm thinking, was it my bank card? I open my wallet, nope. Must've run over something.
Two seconds later, I'm thinking of calling my friend, who'd left me a message while I was at the gym. The message I'd checked while gassing up the car. On the phone which I'd set down on the roof of the car while I washed the windows...GAH! My little blue phone! In smithereens! On the freeway. Curses.
So I don't have a phone for a few days. It's kind of freeing, no? No. I borrow the husband's phone. It's crappy because he bought it off Craigslist for $20 and started using it it after he drowned his phone. It beeps in my ear every few moments during a call. It has no caller id, even for the numbers that are stored in it. I hate this, because it's a convenience I've come to love. I don't want a surprise when I press TALK, I want to know who I'm about to talk to.
This is all kind of funny, because I resisted getting a cell phone forever. People were already downloading personalized ringtones the first time I signed up. The contract nearly killed me, I was so commitment-phobic. Two whole years? What if I wanted to pack it up and move to Brazil in six months?
Slowly, it became a staple. I remember the first time I felt weird when I accidentally left it at home for a weekend. I became a mobile-only girl. Me and the boyfriend-now-husband got the family plan, and it felt big.
So I go to the (f'ing) Sprint store to get a new phone, and we have the insurance (which is good, as we are forever putting our phones in harm's way) so the guy tells me I can get a replacement by mail, or take $150 off the price of a phone in the store. I check out the phones, pick one out (it has a texting keyboard!) and take it to the counter. He gets the phone, pulls it out of the box, and mentions that getting the discount will automatically renew our contract. Another two (maybe three) years.
"Oh, I can't do that, thanks." I walk out of the store, a little miffed because he hadn't mentioned it before and kind of because I wanted the texting keyboard! but I will wait for the replacement in the mail.
See, I can't just renew the contract. I'm packing it in, and moving to Mexico-Guatemala-Costa Rica-and so forth.
And I will leave my phone.