So, sometime Saturday evening, I managed to lose my cell… I had it in my hand and *thought* I put it in my pocket immediately before getting into Dave’s car, but Sunday morning, no cell to be found. After checking all pockets, couch cushions and anywhere else it could possibly be, I asked Dave to take a look in his car. Got a call this evening that he’d searched the car, flashlight and all, but no cell.
It is amazing how quickly you get totally used to having a phone you can truly take with you anywhere and has every phone number you use in it. Today I was stuck waiting on a call from the pharmacy, and having no cell, my sorry butt was stuck at the house. I had to look up my grandmother’s phone number in our address book to call her last evening. I was incredibly impressed with myself that I remembered Dave’s number, given that I think I have actually dialed it once, and that was to put it in the cell phone.
Dave said he’d take another look tomorrow in the light of day but I can’t help but think it ended up in the parking lot and probably is nothing more than a pile of metallic pink shrapnel. In the meantime, I’m going into mobile DT’s. I find myself double checking my pockets as I leave the house because one of them is light, even though I know exactly what is missing - I keep hoping it will magically appear in a random pocket somewhere.
So, it appears I’ve got a trip to Radio Shack for a new phone tomorrow. Which will likely guarantee that my “old” phone turns up out of nowhere. If that happens, 911 victim services gets a nice shiny working phone, so it’s all OK in the end. And until I have the new phone, I can still check my messages (where the pharmacy left a message, despite my leaving my landline number as a contact.)
But dammit, I want my phone.
