I lost my phone.
I mean, I really lost my phone. Like, it was gone. Nowhere to be found.
You may wonder how I knew it was nowhere to be found. Well, I have two cell phones; one is my personal phone and the other is my business phone. When my brilliant son-in-law suggested getting another line, I ran to AT&T as fast as my Toyota could carry me. It made sense to have a line dedicated only to business, but, more importantly, I knew I'd have a way to call myself when I couldn't find my phone.
I called myself Friday night and nobody answered.
I remember talking to a friend on my way to the store, so I knew it had to be there. HAD TO BE. I called the customer service desk. They didn't have it, and they were getting ready to close. No time to send a search party.
That's when I panicked.
WHAT IF SOMEBODY NEEDED TO GET AHOLD OF ME????
I texted the bad news to both my kids from my business phone.
I immediately received a text back from my daughter. It said, "Who is this??"
My son didn't recognize the number either.
See why my other phone is so important????
The next morning I called the store again. Nothing. NOTHING. I was beginning to feel lost, disconnected, estranged. The truth is, I know very few of my friend's phone numbers. My phone, on the other hand, knows all of them.
It's a sad state of things, but it's the truth.
About noon I decided to go search the store myself. I had been trying on jackets and sweaters, so I checked every pocket of every jacket and sweater in my size. No phone. I called my number thinking maybe I would hear it, but it went directly to voice mail. Nuts! The battery was probably dead.
As a last ditch effort, I checked with the customer service desk. I had little hope; I had already talked to them that morning.
The clerk opened her drawer and there was my phone.
Somebody had turned if off, so I waited anxiously while it came to life. Just as I feared, I had missed something important. Lots of somethings important. I had twelve missed calls. TWELVE!!!
Every one of them was from me.