I lost my cell phone

Last year, I washed my cell phone.

I had been photographing and interviewing folks at the USPSA Area 1 Multigun match, in the deep heat of an Oregon First of July, wearing a t-shirt and short pants with cargo pockets. When I got home I just stood in front of the washing machine and stripped. Everything went into the basket. Set water temperature to 'medium', water level to "high", turn it on and it's only two steps to the fridge and a cold beer or two.

When I got around to moving the load from the washer to the drier, I discovered that I had left my cell phone in the cargo pocket of my shorts.

It took me 3 days to dry out the phone, recharge the battery and turn it on. It worked, but it never worked right after that.

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Later that year, I lost my bifocals (eye glasses, for you who haven't yet enjoyed the experience of watching your vision degrade month by month until you cannot see the front sight in better than a vague blur.) There I was, just walking down the street in the rain, with my glasses in a case, in the slash pocket of my rain coat. I must not have zipped the pocket closed, because when I got home the glasses and case were gone. I went back downtown and searched the 'mean streets' to no avail. I never saw those glasses again, and it cost me a couple hundred bucks to replace them.

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Have you got the idea that I lose, misplace, or lose track of valuable items with chaotic abandon and expensive regularity?

Good. Because, that's my life.

So when I couldn't find my cell phone this morning, the realization was accompanied with no small trepidation.

Not in the charger, not on my night-stand, not on the computer desk, not on the coffee table, not on the dining room table, not on the kitchen counter, not in the pocket of the trousers I wore yesterday, not on any bookshelf, not on the bathroom sink counter, not in my briefcase, not in the car. Not on my desk in the office.

It wasn't until I got to the office and used my desk phone to dial my cell phone number in (quickly dashed) hopes that I would hear it ringing, did I realize that I had thrown into the washer the trousers that I had worn the day before ... where I had carried the phone in my pocket.

I emailed SWMBO to make sure I hadn't left it at her place Sunday night (no joy), and accepted that I left it at home ... somewhere. Hopefully not in the washing machine, again.

When I got home at 7pm tonite, I hurried to the washing machine and pulled the soaking wet garments from the basket. Surprisingly, the pockets were empty.


An hour later, after searching the entire house again, I took a closer look at the living room couch.

In the crack between the cushions, there was the cell phone. Dry, in perfect condition, it had slipped out of my trouser pocket and worked halfway between the cushions.

This may seem an anti-climactic ending to the story to you, but it was the best possible resolution to me.

I had replaced my old "pre-soaked" cell phone with a new one only 10 days ago, at no small expense, and I wasn't looking forward to buying a new one quite this soon.

It's a happy ending to the story.

And, it's a prophetic lead-in to the REAL story, which is when I finally manage to destroy my new cell phone, some time in the next year, through irresponsible inattention.

I'm like that.

Watch this space.