Your heart is beating with a disturbing irregularity, despite your mouth not ingesting anything caffeinated or illegal.
You're already foaming in several places.
You've just got your hands on the Samsung Galaxy S20[1], which appeared in stores on Friday.
Please try explaining your excitement to my wife.
Look, I've tried. It's hard when you write a tech column not to be at least mildly fascinated by the next new thing from Apple[2] or Samsung[3].
These things are built up as events. You're pressed to see the show, then talk about it, then buy the souvenir product.
So there we were, desperately supporting the Bay Area restaurant ecosystem -- severely hit by coronavirus fears -- by eating out, when my wife grabbed her phone to answer an urgent text. She then put it on the table, while she reached for her wine.
The screen on her phone has that slightly yellow tinge that, well, my face enjoys first thing in the morning. The paint on the case is peeling away at the top two corners.
This, I thought naively, was the moment to tell her that there's a new Galaxy -- the S20 -- coming up and perhaps it was time to upgrade.
My wife, you see, clings on to her Galaxy S7[4]. She insists Apple is the devil's own brand and believes Samsung is somehow more of the people. Which seems strange when Samsung is now releasing phones costing $2,000[5].
Still, I muttered: "Isn't it time to upgrade your phone?"
"Why?" she replied.
"Well, your phone's getting quite old. It must have slowed down a lot. And it looks a bit grotty."
"I married you," she replied.