What We Had Was A Failure to Communicate

I don’t have to listen to the weather reports.  I’m pretty sure I know what’s happened.

It was a discombobulated December for me.  I lost my iPhone around Thanksgiving and quickly realized how much I’d come to depend on it and all of its uses.  Out Christmas shopping, I couldn’t take a quick picture of something to text to someone for a second opinion.  I had to borrow the customer service phone in Harris-Teeter to call Dearly Beloved to see if I needed to buy beer for visitors.  That proved to be a fruitless exercise, as he rarely gets his phone out of his pocket in time to answer.  (He says it’s because I always call when he’s picking up dog poop.)

He told me later that he figured it was me, so he returned the call. . . until he realized he was phoning a supermarket and I wouldn’t be apt to answer.

I couldn’t look up directions, addresses, or recipe ingredients when I was out there in the jungle. It felt downright primitive, I tell you!   For a month now I’ve been asked dozens of times, Haven’t you found your cellphone? or, from realists,  Haven’t you bought a new phone yet?  I’ve had to go back to carrying a book to waiting rooms, where Free WiFi seems to have suddenly sprouted up everywhere.

I despaired, then surrendered.  I was never going to find it.

Today is my birthday.  DB asked what I wanted to do and I said I wanted to start with breakfast at the restaurant that serves red velvet waffles.  I never get them; I just like to  make sure they’re still on the menu.  After breakfast,  I wanted to go to the mall and get a new phone.  It being my birthday, bless him, he didn’t even gasp at the four-letter ‘m” word.  He froze a second, then nodded.

Speaking of freezing, it was SEVEN degrees when I let the dog out this morning.  SEVEN degrees on January 7!   Definitely a day for my Minnesota coat.

I wear that old full-length, warm, hooded coat so seldom now that I no longer even keep it in our crowded coat closet.  Instead, it’s stashed in a guest bedroom closet along with odd items like a size 4 ring-bearer’s suit,  a pink polka-dotted piano recital dress, and an assortment of old ski pants.  I found the coat, slipped it on, and, deciding not to mess with gloves, stuck put my hands into the soft plush pockets.

And pulled out my cellphone.  Deader than a flat possum on I-95.

At first I couldn’t remember even wearing the coat at all, then decided it could have been one night when I took the dog for a short walk.  I wore it then, not because it was that cold, but because I was wearing my pajamas underneath.  I must have stuck the phone in my pocket in case I got arrested.

At least three members of the family had stood on their heads looking under all the car seats.  I’d gone through drawers, pockets.   I’d looked underneath every cushion.  I checked the dog’s toy basket and honestly, even eyed her poop suspiciously for a couple of weeks.  I’d checked every closet.  Except the one with the polka-dot recital dress, the ring bearer suit, etc.   Oops.

On my computer, the FindMyPhone app identified the phone as being at this address, but we couldn’t hear the audio signal it said it was sending out.  The next time I tried the app, it told me there was nothing.   I decided that the first time the phone might have been in the outside trash bin and had been carted off to the landfill by the second time I tried.

There was nothing to do except buy a new one.  Buying a phone just like the one you had  is like buying a replacement hot water heater.  It’s necessary, but it’s not exciting.

Had the Arctic blast not hit today, I wouldn’t have bothered with the Minnesota coat.  We’d have headed for Apple and bought the phone.  If the icy cold hit tomorrow instead, I’d have worn that coat and found myself the disgusted owner of two cellphones.  (Tomorrow is, of course, Elvis’ birthday.  You DO go out and celebrate, don’t you?)

It’s like the Elf on the Shelf has been messing with me.  Maybe I entered The Twilight Zone.  Or perhaps Saint Anthony was giving me a preview of what life would be like if I became a Catholic.   One friend called it serendipity, another said it was a senior moment.  Heck, it was a senior MONTH!  Dearly Beloved has reminded me that patience is indeed a virtue.

I received this e-mail today in Twilight Zone fashion: 

A sound was played on iPhone.
A sound was played on iPhone at 7:06 AM on January 7, 2014.

So what does this have to do with how cold it is?  I’m thinking that hell must have frozen over.


10 thoughts on “What We Had Was A Failure to Communicate

  1. Oh no!! But glad you found it eventually, before you bought another! 🙂 Gordon lost his phone once. Couldn’t find it for days. I made him call it while I walked around the house listening for the ring. Finally discovered it buried deep in a gym bag in a closet!

    It’s cold here, too. Arctic breeze, anyone?

  2. Carol Ray

    Number one: I told you it was in a coat/jacket pocket, telling you the story of Calli’s friend losing key to Calli’s apt the same way and not finding it for six months. You assured me you had checked all pockets. I rejoice you found it. I loved the whole blog. Which brings us to number two: I don’t understand the end. Was there supposed to be an email showing on the screen? Or was that the email below the iPhone start page. If so, darn if I understand it. You know me, ole concrete literal me. Spell it out for me.

    Sent from my iPad


  3. NCMountainwoman

    Too funny. My own husband never answers the home phone and never remembers to turn on his cell phone so we also have a failure to communicate ala Cool Hand Luke.


  4. Happy (slightly late) Birthday! I had the date saved in my old computer but it didn’t get transferred to this new one. That’s my excuse, anyway.

    Now that you’ve found your phone, you can go out and buy the birthday gift you really want! What would that be? Inquiring minds want to know….

  5. Happy Birthday! I really enjoy reading your blog posts. You always make me smile. Glad to hear that you have been reunited with your iPhone.

  6. Arkansas Patti

    Well thanks to a bitter cold day, you did have a Happy Birthday and so did DB. The good thing is that you hadn’t accused anyone. There is joy in Mudville again.

  7. I doubt your husband is as old as I am, but my kids complain I never answer mine either. Cant use dog poop as an excuse; I figured it was my age. Hah. It’s always in another room under a chair or in the bottom of my purse and I can’t hear it. But I do take it with me and use it the same way you do. Besides, my kids, grandkids and even my ex text me on it. (Which reminds me, I think there are some photos of our vacation on there…forgot about them.)
    Glad you found it. I lost my wedding ring many years ago (no doubt it was a warning of trouble ahead) and found it two years later in the bottom of the icemaker bin.

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