She's got the Ph.D - and I don't

Sometimes, I am as dense as a fruitcake.
I killed my cell with saltwater, and I was working up an ulcer trying to figure out how to pay for a new one. My first chance at an upgrade doesn't come until March; I get a full upgrade six months after that.
I just couldn't see spending $190 - or more - for a new phone.
"I've got an old one, I'll send it to you and see if they'll transfer the service over to it," my sister, the doctor, said.
Duh.
I dug my old cell out of the drawer, charged it up, and brought it into Sprint. Told them my tale of woe.
"Yeah, saltwater is corrosive to phones," the guy said. "You've killed this one."
And then he transferred service over to the old phone for free.
I like the old phone better than the one I killed anyway. I dropped it into the toilet once, and that didn't kill it.
They gave me a little plastic doggie bag for the old one. A plastic mailer to send it back to the factory for recycling.
Adios, crappy cell.
Hello cell that survived the crapper.

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