So there I was sitting on my comfy couch at 10 p.m. Sunday night not watching TV. Not having a nice end-of-weekend conversation with my hubby, not eating chips and contemplating the upcoming Fourth of July holiday. I WAS CHECKING MY WORK EMAIL.

Why you ask? Because I can damn it.

Maybe I sensed the impending work doom. That’s why we weren’t standing on a long line Friday night waiting to get our hands on the new iPhone, or Jesus phone, or whatever the heck you want to call it. I now call it the What-the-f***-was-I-thinking phone (WTFWIT phone). I was subconsciously putting off what I knew deep down would happen.

I’m connected every second now. I can check my email, my blog, my column, virtually from anywhere at any time. It’s not a laptop you have to open up and let it get hot on your lap while you’re hanging in the family room. This is a freakin slim little phone that sits quietly in my pocket until it vibrates, rings, or I get the inkling to check my email. I get this inkling often but before the WTFWIT phone I had to get my butt up and into my office.

But nooooooo. I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I had to have the WTFWIT phone.

You know something. All these gadgets are nice, exciting and fun to play with. But the gadgetization of all of us is doing little for our so-called work-life balance grand plans.

I’m beginning to think it has nothing to do with balance. Work-life has become one word people — worklife. That’s it. Simple as that. No work. No life. Just some warped synthesis of both.

I hate you Steve Jobs.