I remember the first cell phone I ever had; it was a simple Nokia which I covered with a green lightning storm face plate. Because I was going through a phase, and I thought that cover would make me seem “badass like Chuck Norris” tough. Which is a phase I left in the dust, because now I have the cutest miniature pink phone that ever existed, one that Adam hates being seen talking on. As if the pink will infiltrate his brain, and make him less of a man. My reply to that is to tease him mercilessly while he uses my phone. Aren’t I the sweetest fiancé ever?
But I have a slight problem with cell phones, I have lost & broken more phones than anyone should be allowed to own in a lifetime. (Thank Bob I live in a capitalistic society). But, honestly, is it my fault that my phone slipped into a puddle of water? Is it my fault that one phone got left behind on my cafeteria tray only to be washed by the workers? And can I take the blame for leaving my phone behind in numerous stores, bars, and cars. Come on sometimes alcohol was involved in those situations. Then there was also the time I found my phone a few months later lodged between the seats in my car, I STILL haven’t told my mother that it is no longer lost, because it would put my very life in danger).
The other day in all the hustle and bustle of traveling home from Wisconsin, I left my cell phone behind on the shuttle that took us home. Surprise, Surprise. By the time I discovered this, the shuttle guy was long gone. Adam has a dinky prepaid cell phone that had no minutes, so I couldn't call home and tell my mother that I made it home safely. I didn't think it was such a huge deal, I would just tell my mother the next day and endure the head spinning, pea spitting that was about to ensue if I didn't retrieve it. Yes my mother is still paying my cell phone bill, but only for one more month until the contract runs out. Then I will be deposited kicking & screaming into the real world (playing grown-up is so much more fun than being grown up).
I assumed that my mother would simply think I lost my phone or forgot to call, as most rational people would. And I need to say my mother is pretty sane, she holds down a pretty stressful job and deals with the junior high drama that is our family dynamic without losing her cool, but rationality is not her strongpoint. The next morning Adam and I were awakened at 6 A.M. by a loud banging on the door. I was in a daze when Adam said, "It’s the police." That is a scary feeling, and it only got worse when I heard them say, "Is Brittany here?" I was barely dressed, and looked a hot mess (I would have been perfect for an episode of Cops). My heart fell out of my chest, my mind raced-what could I have done? I could only come up with jay walking and paying a bill a few days late (like I said being all grown up is hard.)
It turns out that my mother had cooked up a whole absurd scenario in her head. She believed that it was possible that we had walked in and found our dog sitter murdered, and that maybe we were in shock. Wait...what? The worse case scenario I would have jumped to is that maybe we had gotten in a car accident. But a murdered housekeeper? Oh mother how I love thee. I quickly went from fear, to amusement, to pitying my mother for how she must have been worrying, to embarrassment at what I must have looked like to those really cute young policemen.
But the best part was because of the fear, my mother wasn't even mad about the forgotten cell phone (which I was able to retrieve the next day). I love staying out of trouble.