Cell Phone Magic

My cell phone went missing about 48 hours ago. Since I could care less about anything technological, this didn't bother me. A bit.

Mike, on the other hand, became the dialing fiend. He couldn't help himself. Where is that phone? Have you checked the car? The other car? Your purse? Are you sure it's not at the bottom of your purse?*

"I don't know." "Yes." "Yes." "Yes." "I'm positive. But you are welcome to check again."**

No dice.

I finally called the stupid thing myself. And it went straight to voice mail. When I told Mike, he said he knew because he had called it*** early in the day and it was ringing multiple times then, in the afternoon, it changed to going straight to my message.****

At this point, I had a pseudo-funeral for the dumb thing. No chance I'd ever find it without being able to follow it's pre-designated, non-annoying ring. I figured it was lost at sea and needed a proper burial.

That was, until this morning, when I was moving over a load of laundry Mike started yesterday. And like a rabbit out of a magician's hat, the phone appeared. TA-DA.

The screen looked a little like windows in a car that is occupied with a horny teenage couple. Not good.

The "ON" button didn't seem to like me pressing on it. It kept belching water.

The battery was in similar shape. If I were Superman, I'd be able to see right through it to the corrosion which had already started.*****

The only thing standing? The SIM card. In all its plastic glory. Just waiting to be transferred to yet another phone.

I'm walking, not running, to the store to replace this thing.

I think I owe it to Mike, with his now pre-arthritic hands due to over-dialing. If I don't get my hands on a new one, STAT, he may feel so disconnected from me that he might implode.

And, being that he works within eye shot of me, I'd really hate to have to watch THAT.

Much less, clean it up.


*Stuff mysteriously falls into the rabbit hole from Alice in Wonderland when it goes into my purse. I intentionally bought one I thought was going to be shallow enough that this wouldn't happen. My next model will be about 6 inches deep and about a foot wide.

**That statement was really pretty redundant, considering he was ALREADY digging through my purse.

***Read: thousands of calls.

****At that point, I blamed him for running the battery down by calling the dang phone so much.

*****I'm not Superman or woman. However, I have a vivid imagination. Can you tell?