I’m usually pretty careful with my personal items. I hardly ever lose things. I mean, yeah, there was that virginity thing, and my keys that one time. And hey, I lost only one of my children once in the past 3 years. I’m doing pretty good, right?
When it comes to the cell phone, however, it’s a lost cause. I lose it, it turns up. I lose it, it turns up. We dance this dance again and again. I threaten to put a bell, a leash, anything on it and yet, it still slips through my grasp.
This is day 3 of the missing phone and the suck factor has multiplied ten-fold. So, what had happened was. . .
The girls and I headed out to scoop up another mom/daughter friend for a great day at Busch Gardens. We were off to a good start, and while my friend finished getting ready, I went to install her daughter’s Britax in the back of the car. I had my phone at the time; I was talking to Gym Mommy, as a matter of fact. When it looked like the carseat was in, the troops ready to roll, I bid adieu to Gym Mommy and put my phone. . .where?
Beats me.
We were pulling out onto the main drag and Morgan asked me to put on some Ne-Yo from a playlist on my phone. I told her that I couldn’t reach my phone — I’m thinking it’s in the way back of the car with my purse and stuff — and I’d do it on the way home. We make it to Busch Gardens, we lunch, we ride, we walk, walk, walk all over England, Scotland, and Italy. We head home and I still don’t think about the phone. Blessedly, Morgan forgot her request for Ne-yo and the girls contented themselves with stuffing their faces with Craisins as they watched the Little Einsteins (yes, I have become one of those DVD-in-the-car parents. A multiple mile backup on 64 will do that to you!).
I do realize, though, that I haven’t heard my phone ring at all. Not that I’m super popular, but my parents and my brother regularly check in and all had been quiet. I figured I must have left the phone on my friend’s mail table back at the house. When we get back to town to drop them off, that’s the first place I look.
No phone.
Hmmmm. . .what did I do after I said bye to Gym Mommy? Did I put the phone in the car? Or did I go back into the house to coordinate one last potty trip before we got in the car? Did the phone get sucked into some sofa cushions? Swept into a box of Strawberry Shortcake and Polly Pocket detritus?
Let’s call it. And. . .straight to voicemail? What?! Impossible. There’s no way that from 10:15am to 5:30pm the phone would have lost a charge. Craaaaaaaap!
Oh, the irritation that ensued. My friend and I looked in the house. We checked the car. Nothing. I said bye to her — it was late and the kids were hungry — and headed home. When DH came in, I told him of my debacle and asked if he’d check the car. A fresh pair of eyes never hurt, right?
In the meantime, I called my service provider to find out when the last call was made because maybe it got stolen! But the call records indicate that the last incoming call was the one I took before leaving for BG. Great. My phone has a service called “Find My Phone” and I finally navigate many a webpage to that site. Yeah, too bad they’re tell me that 1) I never registered my phone and 2) Because the phone appears to be off, I wouldn’t be able to use the “Find My Phone” feature anyway.
Grrrrr!! The evening ends with my friend checked in with me, but nothing on her end, nothing on mine.
Day 2 rolls around and I realize that without my phone, I feel totally incapacitated. I have no alarm clock. I actually have to turn on the TV to check the weather. I don’t know if anyone has called, emailed or texted me. I can’t see what pithy, witty status updates I’ve missed. I can’t take funny photos of the girls. I can’t call my Grandma in between our various errands or check to see how much fundage I have in the bank via my banking app. My vocabulary is suffering because I can’t submit my entry on Words With Friends, and if I don’t check in on Foursquare soon, someone else is going to be the mayor of Pasha!! I realize that I have become too reliant on my phone. I’m too irritated to be embarrassed by that admission.
I have got to find this flippin’ thing.
I take the car apart. Carseats out, stroller out. I fold down the seats, I pull the seats back up. I empty all cup holders, compartments, catch-alls and cubbies. I’m sweating because it’s 90 degrees at 9am and because I’m getting really, really ticked off. I find a pen, four goldfish, a barrette, a used tissue and 68 cents.
I call my friend and ask her if I can come scour her front yard to see if it fell in the grass. Thankfully, she takes my neurosis in stride and welcomes us over. She’s on her way out of town, getting packed and such, but still stops to help me look. The kids are watching TV, completely oblivious to the madness around them. When it looks like the phone is a no show in her house, my friend and I start offering up bribes to the kids to get them to help us.
Cheez-E-Poofs for dessert! Whatever you want, just tell us where the phone is!!
Blank stares all around.
*le sigh* I take a few laps up and down her street because it dawns on me, maybe I left if on the back bumper when I finished talking, just as the tailgate came down. That wouldn’t be the first time I’ve put a phone there: Side note — I was loading up groceries while talking on the phone, I hung up and put the phone down. Then I promptly shut the tailgate. Right.on.the.phone.
Anyway, no broken pieces of phone in the road, but what’s to say that it hung on for a few blocks before it flew off. So here we are on Day 3 and I’m starting to accept that the phone is gone.
I’m sure that there is a lesson to be learned here, probably something along the lines of taking a break from technology for the good of my own personal sanity and safety (i.e. all the dangers that go with cell phones and driving), yadda, yadda, yadda.
If I said I was reformed, would that bring my phone back? 