To see me is to see my iPhone. It’s quite literally an extension of my hand. It goes everywhere with me.
A few nights ago we ate dinner at Taco Bell. (Don’t judge) Afterward we went to the adjacent King Soopers to pick up a few things. Aside from the Taco Bell slip, we’re trying to eat better. (Hey! I thought you wouldn’t judge!)
I wanted to scan a package of whole grain bread to see the nutrition info. I reached for my phone. It wasn’t in my pocket. I checked every other pocket on my person and probably looked like I was publicly groping myself in the bakery. No phone. “Honey, is it in your purse?” Sheena found hers, but not mine. “I gotta check the car!” I knew I left it unlocked and if my phone was in there, it was on the center console in plain view.
I whizzed through the chip aisle and made a bee-line for the door. It was already dark out and I ran for the Jeep through passing headlights, dodging moving cars. I pulled open the door to find. . . NOTHING. It hadn’t slipped to the floor. It wasn’t beneath the seats.
PANIC.
I checked the ground around the vehicle. I must have left it on the table when we ate. I lurched forward toward Taco Bell and started to run. No! I’ll drive! I stopped on a dime and pivoted around toward the Jeep. No! I should tell Sheena I’m leaving! I jerked back toward the store. With my arms stretched forward I must have resembled a zombie from Michael Jackson’s Thriller. (Never thought THAT name would surface in a blog entry) No! There’s no time to waste! I climbed in the Jeep and sped through the lot toward Taco Bell.
They didn’t have my phone. I felt like a fool for even asking at the counter. Like someone would really turn it in. My shoulders slumped and I drove back to the store to get Sheena and Lillian.
When we made it home, my smart little iPhone lay obediently where I left it: On the bed where I rested this afternoon to play Doodle Jump. (Don’t judge!)
