I was born about 50 years too late

I really was. I do not fit into the "wired world." I can't catch up with technology, much less keep up with it. My smart phone is smarter than I am. My computer reaches out and smacks my knuckles every now and then, and I don't even know how to change the channels on my TV. Forget watching a DVD.
I bought my husband an electronic device for Christmas. I can't tell you what it is, because he reads my blog. I will tell you this, though. The thing was completely silent until I wrapped it today. I tucked it neatly underneath the tree with all the other beautifully wrapped treasures, then went into the kitchen to continue my baking. I put a pan of cookies into the oven, poured myself a glass of wine, sat in my chair and put my feet up. Ahhh, a peaceful end to a long day.
Then it started. "Beep." Pause "Beep." Wow, I thought, those cookies baked quickly. I got up to take them out of the oven and realized, looking at the timer, that they still had about 5 minutes to go.
"Beep." "Beep."
What in the world? What is that noise? I stayed very quiet and traced the beeping back to the family room and yes, you guessed it, it was coming from underneath the tree. Crap. I wrap everything in the same paper, did I mention that? Some package, somewhere underneath my tree, was beeping. As I was trying to home in on the source of the noise, the cookie timer really DID go off. I crawled out from under the tree and darted into the kitchen to save the cookies from a black fate, one they see far too often in my house. Just as I was pulling the tray of perfectly browned Christmas cookies out of the oven, another beep. This one was louder.
I raced back to the tree, determined to find the source, but this new beep was not coming from under the tree. It was coming from my purse. Ahh, the phone, it had to be. I dug and scratched and dug some more to find my phone in its black holster inside my black purse, and as soon as I found it, it stopped beeping. Crap. That means something happened and I will likely never know what it was. I started pushing buttons. Was it a text message? A call? An e-mail? A reminder? A Facebook notification? A low battery? I may never know. As I was frantically pushing buttons to see what the big deal was that triggered all that damned beeping, my doorbell rang.
My dogs go crazy when the doorbell rings. So now they were barking, my phone had commenced beeping again, this time to tell me that I had missed what just happened, and the oven timer went off again. Keep in mind, I still haven't been able to find the beeping package.
I poured myself another glass of wine, threw a blanket over most of the presents under the tree, turned the volume up on the TV (THAT took some doing), and took a deep breath. I was born 50 years too late. Nothing beeped 50 years ago.