My personal theory, long held and severely tested, is that there is a true limit to the amount of technology one person can absorb.
This is not license to make fun of Gramma, you.
Keep in mind that women of her generation were not exposed to one hundredth the technology that you have already personally used. In addition to that rumination keep in mind that women of her mother’s generation sometimes found themselves in ridiculous situations like having to give birth at the horse track because that is where the only doctor was hanging out while she was in labor.
Feel a little ungrateful yet? Of course not. You aren’t old enough to feel that particular strain of guilt and awe. Thanks to THEM, you will be given that chance, though.
Anyway, this is not a new limitation. I remember reading James Thurber at your age, and he described the way his grandmother went around the house obsessively tinkering with switches and outlets because she was convinced that electricity was leaking all over the house like a silent menace.
My own grandmother was only convinced after many, many years to heat actual food for humans in the microwave. Not long after, she was persuaded to eat it after it had been reheated in there.
You’ll have your hands full when I hit my limit, I’m sure. One day I will simply refuse to use the teleporter, and you’ll have to beam yourself to my house all the time to make sure I have the electricity on.
Remind me about this the next time I complain about Gramma’s dormant cell phone, okay?