The World Needs More People Like You, Mom

How long do you search before you replace your lost phone?

I had it with me before I met TBG for lunch, because I called him to make a plan. We dashed out of Five Guys once again because a patron was packing heat, so it might have been left there, but I remembered putting it into the insulated reusable shopping bag, along with my wallet, when I went into the grocery store.  

But, I'd been to G'ma's in the interim, and who knows what would happen if I called her on her phone and asked her to listen for mine.... You're on this phone.... my phone might be there.... listen for the phone... yes, you're on the phone.... I might have left my phone.... no, not your phone.... I had to smile. I didn't make the call.

I'd spent the morning with Boethius, considering happiness. Possessions bring responsibilities and opportunities for mischance; true happiness is self-sufficiency.  Did I really need my phone? Was I allowing the trappings of my life to distract me from what is truly important? Intellectually, I know that I need my phone. Intellectually, I was dissecting that need. Emotionally, I was strangely calm.  

Usually, losing my phone sends me over the edge.  My stomach roils, my brain can't focus, I lash out angrily at life and anyone in it. Today, I was quick, purposeful, but relatively disinterested as I retraced my steps: to the grocery store; through the parking lot; to G'ma's pod castle; through that parking lot, too; back to the grocery store lot to look just one more time. At home, I emptied my schoolbag and the insulated grocery bags and flattened them out with my hands, just to be sure.  

TBG called the errant device as I chased around the house and the garage and the courtyard

where I'd deposited the beginnings of fall, listening and hearing nothing.

And so, the question: How long do you search before you replace your lost phone?

We decided that I would take one more pass through G'ma's apartment before I went to the Verizon store and cashed in on the insurance I was suddenly very glad to have purchased.  I put my wallet in my purse (no more carrying things loose for me) and got into The Schnozz, fondling the grocery bags one more time when I wondered, aloud, "Did I take it out with the chicken?"

When I got home from the market, perishables in tow, I was in urgent need of the bathroom. I grabbed the cold stuff and shoved it in the refrigerator and raced down the hall. Afterwards, I chatted with TBG, watched some PTI, and then went to look for my calendar on the phone... which was no where to be found. I'd forgotten about my rushed return; it was the only part of my afternoon I did not try to recreate. 

And so, I got out of the car and came back inside and opened the refrigerator and there it was, 

on top of the chicken. 

You can see how rushed I was by the fact that the carrot never made it to the veggie bin. 

I learned many lessons from this episode.  I learned that my refrigerator is soundproof. I learned that I must pay attention to transitions. I learned that breathing deeply and focusing on the fact that this was an annoyance but not a tragedy is possible, especially since I learned that I need to pay attention to the good things in life... like the fact that I walked to all those places two or three times within an hour today... and I really walked... without much of a limp at all, my arms swinging, my steps wide and firm and evenly weighted. I was motivated to cover as much ground in as little time as possible and, for the first time in nearly three years, I was able to do just that. 

I wasn't running, but I was moving. I didn't have a cart, I didn't stumble as I turned, I went up and down curbs as if nothing was amiss... and nothing was amiss because the damn phone was in the refrigerator and I was walking.

I'm on the path to self-sufficiency. I wish I didn't have to feel so foolish to recognize it. It's at moments like these that I stop, take a deep breath, and remember Little Cuter's maxim, the title of this post.

I laugh at myself and move on.