Other than ridding myself of the adult responsibility of having a cell phone, I need to come up with better ways not to lose mine.
I misplace my phone at least once a week.
Usually, I'll forget that I put it on top of my fridge while filling up my water bottle, then waste 5-10 minutes looking everywhere logical for it, only to remember what I did upon taking a sip of water.
Sometimes, though, I'll leave it at Lord V's house, then have to drive all the way back (it's a whopping three miles, round-trip). Quite frustrating.
Today was a different, scarier story, albeit with a happy ending of the fairy tale, non-massage parlor variety. After lunch at Tavolo, 427 S. Boston Ave., with my co-worker Sparkles, we decided to splurge and go have some coffee or something a block south at Mod's Coffee & Crepes. Sparkles got an ice coffee or something, and I, of course, got a Shake-a-ccino with stracciatella gelato, my favorite flavor there.
We trek back to the newsroom and, about 20 minutes later, I start looking for my phone. That's when Dad calls -- someone called him on my phone.
"Crud," I thought, "a serial killer has my phone." For some reason, my worst-case mind immediately jumps to scenarios involving serial killers. A bump in the night? Serial killer. The shadow that moves in the corner of my bedroom at night? Serial killer.
Anyway, a guy was trying to call Dad -- who's brilliantly in my phone as "Dad" -- but the connection was lost. Dad tried calling back, but no one answered.
"What's the number he called from, and I'll call him back," I suggested.
After a quick pause, Dad reminded me, "He was calling from your phone, Son."
"Oh, yeah," I said. So we said our good-byes, and I called Mod's, which, praise the holy trinity, had my phone. I walked there -- in the rain, by the way -- and thanked the owner, Rusty, profusely. He'd even taped a piece of cash-register paper and the word "lost" scrawled in cursive across it. I am now a fervent follower of the Mod's faith. Amen.
Today's little story could've ended much worse (hello, serial killer!), so I'm very, very thankful and said a little prayer of Thanksgiving at my desk.
But this is becoming WAAAAAY too frequent of an occurrence. Are any of y'all the same way? What do you do? I've thought about one of those bungee-cord chains like some janitors keep their keys on. But I don't want the phone to bounce around and hit stuff, even though it's in an OtterBox.
Yes, I know "being smarter" is an option, but if you have a good suggestion for how to keep better track of things you misplace frequently, kindly share them. Otherwise, stop what you're doing and go have something with stracciatella gelato in it.
Peace, love and happy endings ... XOXO
Follow Jason Ashley Wright on Twitter.
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