Since I've had kids, I've lost cell phones more times than Oprah's lost weight. In fact, Oprah has been way more successful than I've been.
Once it fell off the top of the car on the freeway.
Once I dropped it in a toilet at a San Francisco airport.
Once I washed it.
Once I dried it.
Sadly, the last two fates are more than I do with my hair most days.
Being the computer stud that he is, Rex has always been able to replace them via Ebay. Sometimes the ringers don't work. Sometimes they won't take messages. Other times they sound like the inside of the Staten Island Ferry at rush hour. (Not that I've ever been inside the Staten Island Ferry, but I can only imagine noise, seasickness, and my crappy cell phone coverage as one horrible combination.)
I was pretty proud of a two month, no injury record. Until yesterday when my lucky streak ended. I couldn't find my phone. Bad.
But I called the market, and they said one was turned in at the exact time I lost it! Yeah!
So I figured I'd do dishes before the grand cell phone reunion so when Rex came home for his big reunion with the family it didn't smell like a Tuscon truck stop.
I turned on the disposal - recently fixed - and hear a clunk clunk cluuuuuunk.
Can you guess what was in there? I'll give you three guesses. If you get it right - you win a mangled cell phone!
PS: Thank you all for your well wishes on the Terminator gig. I have heard nothing. NOTHING. I really didn't expect to. This is about the 10th time location managers have photographed our home, and then they never call. My poor house - it's going to be so rejected once again. (Hey, maybe that's why the disposal ate my cell phone.)