I opened the front door at work, then turned my back pack upside down and dumped everything I had in it on the floor. And yet I couldn’t find my iPhone. I had emergency socks, a fork, spoon, a lunch, headphones, a balled up kleenex, a green & grey rock (that I believe is from the south shore of Lake Superior) and various other items, but I couldn’t find that damn iPhone. What do I expect having a black phone in a black bag? Where the HELL is my phone? AACK!
Will that beeping stop? Oh, My GOD!! The police are going to come and . . . oh, okay, here is my old cell phone.
“OH my God! What is the alarm code!?”
“What? Where are you?”
“What is the code?!”
“Okay, its um . .. XXX, okay? Okay?? Got it?”
November 12th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary: Just because they don’t tell you there is an alarm, doesn’t mean there isn’t one. And look, there is my little iPhone, tucked neatly away where it’s usually kept.