gratitude-a-thon day 967: lost phone, found phone


I was practically going to call my friend and the kid’s third grade teacher, Ginny, who does a prayer to Saint Anthony, the Saint of lost shit. BUT I DIDN’T HAVE A PHONE.

Yesterday was one of those days. One of those days, where unexpected things happen and you try to wrap your brain around them, only your brain is all like, “Get out of town.” It was pouring rain and I headed to Whole Foods after sorting all the sneakers and sports clothes my friend and I collected to send to Zanzibar (which were going to be brought over in the next trip from the high school, only the trip got cancelled) and found out it was going to cost $1,000. For that, my friend and I thought, we could just send them $1,000 and have them buy new sneakers and sports clothes.

So, it is already dark, pouring rain and I do a little shop for one dinner, like they do in Paris, that everyday shopping for just the day, which I always think is so romantic, but who has the time to do that, unless you have a lovely market with fresh baguettes right next to your house, or are a French woman who knows how to wear a scarf, but I digress.

So, I have my dinner, I go to my car. I look for my phone to tell my husband not to stop at the store, because I have taken one for the team and swum there myself, but the phone was nowhere to be found. I raped the pockets of my coat, dumped my bag, unpacked my groceries, but nada. I get out of the car in the rain, retrace my steps, go to customer service, ask about a phone that might have been turned in, go through the store to all the places I visited for my French dinner, get the people in prepared foods on alert, a few shoppers, and come up with nuthin’.

Fuck me. Seriously fuck me.

I go home and can’t even cook.  But I remember that I have Find my iPhone, so I put it into the spotlight thing to find on my computer, but apparently I do not have it, which I took to mean, I never got it for my newish phone. I posted on Facebook that I’d lost my phone and friends gave me sympathy, which doesn’t find your phone, but damn, it makes you feel better.My husband came home and didn’t make me feel any better, but did go out, at my request, to my car to call my phone and see if it rang in the car. It did not. I put myself in a timeout.

I emailed my son, who’s call I earlier ignored because I was sorting the sneakers to Zanzibar, WHICH DID I MENTION ARE $1,000 to send, who can’t believe I didn’t lose him when he was little because I lose my phone so much, and he asked me if I had used Find my iPhone. I told him sheepishly I apparently didn’t have it turned on. But he said of course I did if I had iCloud.

And of course, I did. And Find my iPhone found my iPhone, which was wedged between the drivers seat and my middle glove box! When I got in the car, it must have slipped out of my open bag, which is usually zipped. Never mind that I looked there three times (in the dark, but still). Never mind that my husband didn’t hear it ring anywhere in my car. I HAD MY PHONE BACK. Life looked shiny and full of all good things. Gratitude cursed through my rain soaked hair and body.

Can I tell you, I love this kind of gratitude because just by restoring the old, you have made your life feel new again. Not that you should lose your phone or anything else, but damn, I was happy last night.

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