The Weekend I Went on a Digital Detox (And Talked to My Furniture)

There comes a moment in every adult’s life when you realize you’ve spent 6 hours watching strangers clean their kitchens on TikTok while your own kitchen looks like a crime scene. That moment hit me at exactly 2:17 a.m. on a Friday night, as I was elbow-deep in a bag of popcorn and trying to decide if I should start another YouTube video titled “How to Become a Morning Person (Again).”

That’s when I decided I needed a digital detox. A full weekend. No phone, no laptop, no social media, no Netflix. Just me, my thoughts, and my poor neglected houseplants.

Saturday morning arrived and I dramatically powered off my phone. I placed it in a drawer like I was locking away forbidden treasure. I gave myself a proud little nod. “Look at you,” I whispered. “So healthy. So self-aware.”

Hour 1: The Delusion Phase

The first hour was glorious. I brewed coffee. I stared out the window. I journaled with a pen, like a Victorian woman whose lover had gone to sea. I felt smug. Like I was better than everyone who was still scrolling Instagram. I imagined myself becoming one with nature. Enlightened. Centered. Probably glowing.

I even did yoga. For 11 minutes. Then my mind wandered and I started thinking about sandwiches.

Hour 2: Cleaning Frenzy

With no screen to entertain me, I suddenly noticed things in my house I’d never seen before. Like, how had I lived with that one weird stain on the carpet for so long? And when did dust start colonizing the top of the bookshelf?

Fueled by boredom and a false sense of productivity, I launched into a full-scale cleaning attack. I scrubbed surfaces. I rearranged throw pillows. I wiped baseboards. I even vacuumed under the couch and found a hair tie, a single peanut, and an earring I thought I lost in 2022. A treasure trove.

Hour 3: Talking to Inanimate Objects

By mid-morning, I had started talking to my furniture.

“Alright, Larry,” I said to my couch, “you’re getting a new cushion today. Big day for you, buddy.”

I named my lamp “Gloria” and complimented her posture. I said “excuse me” to my bookshelf when I bumped into it. It was either that or open the drawer and check my phone, and I was determined to win this detox challenge like it was an Olympic sport.

Hour 4: The Existential Spiral

Lunch was awkward. I sat in silence, chewing my sandwich and realizing how eerily loud sandwiches sound when there’s no background noise. Every crunch was like an emotional drumbeat.

With no digital distraction, my brain went rogue. I started reflecting on life. Deeply. Like, “What am I doing with my existence?” level deep. I wrote in my journal: "Who even am I without WiFi?"

Hour 5: Attempted Hobby Hopping

I tried to draw. I remembered I can’t draw. I tried to meditate. I fell asleep sitting up. I started a puzzle and then immediately gave up because I couldn’t find the edge pieces and was 98% sure one was missing.

I decided to go for a walk.

Outside: The Wild Frontier

Nature is beautiful. And loud. Birds were yelling. Squirrels were fighting. A breeze knocked a leaf into my eye. But I persisted.

I passed three people all staring at their phones. I wanted to yell, “You’re missing everything!” But I didn’t, because I’m not unhinged. Just temporarily screen-deprived.

I went to a nearby park and just sat. No music. No scrolling. Just me and a kid screaming at a slide. It was weirdly calming.

Evening: Withdrawal Symptoms

Back at home, the withdrawal symptoms peaked. My fingers twitched, desperate to refresh something. I reached for my phone out of habit at least 14 times. I caught myself staring longingly at the microwave display like it was Instagram.

I started humming TV theme songs just to feel something.

For dinner, I ate cold pasta and stared at the wall. I tried reading, but every time I reached for the book, my brain said, “We could Google something right now. Anything. Just one little cat video. Just one meme.”

I whispered, “Not today, Satan.”

Night: The Journal Has Become My Therapist

I wrote 11 pages in my journal that night. It started as deep thoughts and ended with a grocery list and a sketch of my dog wearing sunglasses. It got weird.

I went to bed early because honestly, what else was I going to do? It was either sleep or reorganize my sock drawer by emotional connection.

Sunday: The Rebirth

On Sunday morning, I woke up and… felt calm. Like, actually calm. My thoughts weren’t racing. My eyes didn’t hurt. I didn’t feel like I needed to respond to anything or anyone. I made breakfast. I read a book—with focus. I wrote some ideas. I even daydreamed a little.

It felt… kind of wonderful?

But let’s not get dramatic.

Sunday Night: Reunited and It Feels So Right

At exactly 6:00 p.m., I opened the drawer, pulled out my phone, and turned it on like it was rising from the dead. It lit up and buzzed 57 times. I won’t lie, it was exhilarating.

I scrolled for 20 minutes straight, eyes wide, absorbing every meme and notification like a dehydrated sponge. Then I realized… it didn’t feel as good as I expected.

I’d survived without it. And part of me even liked it.

Now, I do mini detoxes. A few hours here and there. I don’t keep my phone next to my bed. I’ve even made peace with silence. Sort of. Unless I’m home alone and hear a weird creak—then it’s immediately back to Netflix for emotional support.

Lessons from my unplugged adventure:

You don’t realize how addicted you are to screens until you start talking to your toaster.

Boredom is where creativity lives (and also questionable decisions).

Cold turkey digital detoxing is not for the faint-hearted.

Balance is everything. You can love memes and still go outside.

So if you’ve been thinking about unplugging, go ahead and try it. Just maybe not on a rainy weekend when your only backup entertainment is a puzzle missing all the corners.

And if your furniture starts talking back? Maybe plug back in.