I lost my phone.
I didn’t lose it in the couch cushions, or in the car, or at the bottom of my purse.
I lost it in the forest.
My family and I were hiking around looking for a Geo cache, and at some point my phone fell out of my pocket. I didn’t notice for a little while, but when I did – O M G.
I immediately started looking for it. When my husband realized what I was doing, he decided to be helpful and call it using his phone. Thank goodness I didn’t leave it on vibrate.
He called and called.
As I was starting to panic, I started to wonder if I was placing too much importance on it. Honestly, I was more concerned that someone would be able to access my facebook and post a stupid status in my honor. But really, if I had the choice to lose something, what would I rather lose?
My phone or my kindle?
My phone or my credit card?
My phone or my finger?
Okay, not really the last one. Missing a finger would make blogging much more difficult. Although some people might appreciate that from me. Ha.
After some time of walking and repeated calling, I heard it – that magical sound known as my ringtone. I followed it and there, laying face up perfectly on a bed of pine needles as if placed there by angels, was my phone. The picture is exactly what my phone looks like (I know, mostly useless for web purposes, but hey, it was free). Losing a phone would suck, but losing a purple phone would suck more. I was happy I found it, and happier that I wouldn’t have to renew with At&t to get another one.
So what is my relationship with my phone? I still don’t have a solid answer to that, though I’m leaning towards classifying it as a body part. When I forget it or don’t have it for some reason, I do feel like I’m missing an arm. And I like my arms.