I’ve had it. Actually (and more accurately) I’ve lost it.
Tell me if this sounds familiar to anyone.
I grab my stuff and leave the house. I get into my car and immediately reach for my phone. I know I had it right before I left; but I can’t find it in my purse. So I turn off the car and get out and go back in the house. The minute I get inside I find the phone deep in the pocket of my jacket.
It wouldn’t be a big deal if this didn’t go on all day long.
But it does.
I’m starting to obsess over the possibility that I might have lost or forgotten something, even when I haven’t.
Not only do I constantly check that I have my keys and wallet with me, I’ve also developed this habit of going back to check my car after I park it, just in case I forgot to lock it. Which I have never forgotten to do even once.
I think the phone is the worst because it’s become like an extension of ourselves. How did we ever function without everything it can do at our fingertips?
I don’t leave the house without it; I don’t even leave the room without it. The only reason worth having a land-line is using it to call to find my cell phone. Sometimes I think playing word games on the phone is the only thing that stands between me and Alzheimer’s.
For years I”ve been waiting for someone to invent a device women can wear to hang onto it. My purse is a black hole; and I can’t get into wearing it around my neck. I’m sure someday phones will be small enough to wear on the wrist but I can’t wait that long.
The thing is, I haven’t ever lost it; I just think I have.
And I think I’ve reached some kind of dubious milestone—I spend almost more time thinking I’m losing things than I do using them.
I felt a lot better about my mental health recently when a girlfriend from high school was visiting me in California for a few days.
It turns out she has the same obsession. (I refuse to believe it’s connected to our age.) We spent half of our time constantly checking to be sure we had all our stuff with us when we went somewhere.
We spent one night in a hotel; and when I left the room to check out, I didn’t take the key.
The instant the door closes behind me, I reach into my purse and can’t find my cell phone.
I’m convinced I left it in the room. The housekeeper is down the hall so I convince her to unlock the door to let me back in. I go back in the room and within seconds I find the phone deep in my purse. (yes I have enough brain cells left to realize one solution would be clearing out my purse– or carrying a smaller one.)
My friend and I drive back to Carmel. On the road we make one pit stop at a gas station. My friend goes to the ladies room for 5 minutes; comes back to the car and can’t find her sunglasses that she was wearing when she went into the ladies’ room. No other customers are around; but when she goes back to the ladies’ room, no sunglasses. So our pit stop turns into an hour while we tear apart the ladies’ room and the trunk of my car looking for them.
I wish I could report that they were on top of her head; which is where I usually find mine.
We never did find the sunglasses.
And when I get home, I have my phone; but I realize I left my iPad in the hotel room.
I know I had a point to make about all this, but I forgot what it was.