The other day, I went to take a photo of my dinner – yes, I am that person – and my phone flashed up a message I dread: “Storage full.” This is because I currently have 77,358 photos on my phone. Seventy. Seven. Thousand.
And I know I’m not alone. Go on, check yours. I bet you’ve got thousands too. Half of them are probably of your pet. I have approximately 5000 photos of my Sydney silky Kanye looking almost identical. Me holding him, my ex-husband Dom holding him, my boyfriend Minou holding him… But can I delete any? Absolutely not.
Every photo is special, even though it’s basically the same photo on repeat, just with a different human accessory.
The rest? Screenshots. Random recipes I’ll never cook. A pair of shoes I couldn’t afford. That meme I wanted to send to a friend but forgot. And, of course, clusters of almost-identical selfies where the only difference is that I slightly tilted my chin.
One of my friends is even worse. She has so many photos on her phone that when she tries to show me one, the screen freezes and needs a nap before it loads. It’s like her phone is saying, “Lady,
I can’t handle this many pictures of your latte art!” And don’t get me started on iCloud.
“Everything’s safe in the cloud,” they say. Safe? Yes. Organised? No. Somewhere up there are 87 accidental pocket photos of my handbag lining and 300 screenshots of things I clearly thought were important at the time but now have no idea why.
Having 77,000 photos does come with its pros and cons. Pro: My phone is basically a time machine. I can scroll back and relive a holiday from 2014 in perfect detail. Con: That holiday also includes 28 unflattering swimsuit selfies I would rather not be confronted with.
Sometimes I think future generations will find our phones and assume we worshipped our pets, food and our own faces. They wouldn’t be wrong. Maybe one day I’ll sit down, Marie Kondo my photo roll and keep only the ones that spark joy. But until then, I’ll just keep paying for more iCloud storage, the modern-day equivalent of renting a storage unit for stuff I’ll never actually use again.
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