I Lost My Phone But Found Myself

Sometimes I envy the Amish. No electricity bills, no worries about makeup or trying to tame my disheveled quaff with various creams and pomades. Just living life with the people closest to you, that's what I want.

Oh, and my smart phone, because apparently I turn into a blithering idiot when it's not on my person. If you can't tell from my obviously sarcastic tone, I recently lost my cell phone for a few hours. I spent this time questioning my purpose in life and wondering how I ever survived for thirty years before owning one of these contraptions. I was vulnerable, weak, and ashamed of my own feelings. For forty-five minutes, the thought of never seeing that phone again tore me up inside.

Here are just a few of the observations I noticed during the thirty minutes it was missing:

 

I am incapable of watching tv without looking at my phone every 30-60 seconds.

I get upset when my PC doesn't auto-fill words for me. Texting has made me lazy. KWIM?

Without my phone, I have no idea what time it is. When did I stop wearing a watch?

I use Facebook as my own public journal. In the twenty minutes I didn't have my phone, I wrote down approximately two pages of notes so I could post things to Facebook once I found my phone.

I don't want to cook if I can't Instagram a picture of it. Not that I withered away in the ten minutes I was missing my phone. In fact, I'm fairly certain my body could survive a long famine after the two pies I ate for Thanksgiving. But if I can't brag, I won't cook.

If a kid does something cute and doesn't get posted to Facebook, did it actually happen?

Those "find my phone" apps don't actually work. 

I have no hobbies (if you don't count Candy Crush).

I take Google for granted. It pretty much holds the key to the secrets of the universe. 

 

After five excruciatingly long minutes of searching, I found my phone outside in the snow. It must've fallen out of my pocket earlier that evening. I can honestly say I grew more as a person in the two minutes I didn't have my phone.