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The strangest thing: in attempting to meet a writing deadline, I've put my phone in a different room (on a different floor) and I feel ... vastly relieved. As if I've removed a toxin from my environment; I swear my cortisol level has dropped. Which sounds hokey even to me - I don't generally think of the phone in that way. But at some point it seems to have become less my window on the world and more the window through which the world reaches in and screams at me, incessantly.