So I have posited elsewhere that the modern breakup includes three rituals: the Changing of the Facebook Status; the Editing of the Amazon Wishlist; and the Purging of the Netflix Queue.
I would now include a fourth, assuming that you are still talking to your ex at all (which I have to do, because there are many practicalities to manage): the Selection of the Ex's Ringtone.
For a while Claudio's ringtone was "You Give Love a Bad Name" by Bon Jovi. This made me giggle, but it did mean that the odds he would call me at work were immediately increased by a factor of 10. I would often be sitting at my desk talking to a co-worker when, suddenly, from the cabinet where I lock my purse:
"SHOT THROUGH THE HEART!"
The co-worker would usually pause for an instant ("AND YOU'RE TO BLAME!"), gather from my facial expression that I was not going to address this and, in fact, might deny hearing anything at all if pressed, and carry on. So it was starting to get too awkward.
This morning I dinked around on my phone, searching for a ringtone which would be innocuous enough (i.e., classical) but have meaning for me. The obvious choice would be, "Madamina, il catalogo è questo," from Don Giovanni, but a) in his dreams; and b) I love that aria and don't want it to become associated with stressful conversations.
Fortunately, there is a piece which conjures up negative imagery for me (and for a lot of people my age, I imagine) and mocks the thing about which he is most self-conscious, all at once. And, because I am secretly twelve, I feel no compunction about adding the childish emphasis. So Claudio's ringtone is now "A Night on Bald Mountain". Hee!
It's the little things. The little, stupid things. They bring me delight.