my bare toes are wiggling, tucked just outside of the blue blanket that’s covering my lap to prevent the warmth of my mabook pro from turning me into a long-pig dinner for cannibals. it’s yet-another-monday-afternoon in vancouver that’s turned into a scavenger hunt for my cell phone, which could only be tucked into one of 40,000 locales within the basement of the dinosaur house. this madness has gotten to a point where i finally just changed my voicemail message to something along the lines of “i can’t find my phone right now, it’s probably lost in my bedroom somewhere, so leave a message and i’ll call you back” because these are the things that we do when people like me put important things in “safe spots.” this means that the item has been stored indefinitely and safely away from my searching hands.
and for the love of god, i don’t put the damned thing on vibrate anymore because that’s just a recipe for loss-prevention disaster.