I lost my phone last night. And not only that, I lost it in a park with mounds and mounds of snow and a huge icy lake I’d walked over for hours. Oye.
Made me realize how damn dependent I am on this thing. It’s an abusive relationship, really, although I can’t tell who’s abusing whom. I mean, I leave the thing to freeze overnight in a snow drift, but in return it won’t allow me to contact my friends or family. That’s domestic abuse 101 right there.
The funniest things about the whole incident are the thoughts that wen through my head after I gave up searching for it in the dark. I was a bit depressed and looking for a distraction.
“Well, I could play some games…
No, I can’t. I don’t have my phone.”
“Since I don’t have my phone to mess around on, I can get caught up on some reading I’ve been meaning to do…
No, I can’t. My books are all on my phone.”
“I could work on one of my novels…
Nope, I do almost all my writing on my phone (I know, weird, but I usually only have time to write when I’m out and about).”
“Fine, I’ll just listen to some music…
Nope, can’t do that without my phone either.”
“Agh, fine! Since I can’t do anything I want to do, I’ll just mess around on my phone for a while.
I have it back now; found it this morning after a long and lonely night for both of us. He was chilling out (literally) in a footprint on the shore of the lake. He’s home and defrosted now and, much to my surprise, working like a charm.
Thanks, little phone. Now I can continue my codependent relationship with you. Let’s get back on track by placing a GPS tracking device on you so I know where you are and who you’re with at all times. If you spent time with anyone else in that snowdrift, you’re damn lucky I have no way of finding out.
Cuz now you’re mine. All mine. Forever. Until we reach Valhalla.