At least once a week, I get ready to leave for work and discover that, as a result of being left overnight in my bag in a no-service part of the house for several days in a row, my phone is dead.
A few times a week, Sandy reminds me to plug the phone in before bed, but if he doesn’t subsequently remind me to unplug it and put it in my bag before work, I sometimes forget it.
It’s strange—I have this really detailed mental checklist I go through in the mornings (Engagement ring? check. Hair bands in my pocket for later when my hair gets irritating? check. One pink pill and two white pills and a vitamin? check. Extra migraine medication in the bag? check.) But, for some reason, the phone just isn’t on the list.
And then today, I reached a whole new level. I’m wearing the ring, got my hair in a ponytail, took all my pills. But, not only don’t I have my phone, I didn’t even manage to bring my housekeys.
I’m afraid that in a few years, people are going to walk by me on the street and whisper, “do you think she knows she only has one shoe on?”