The day I lost my right hand

Yesterday I left my phone at work.  Right after dinner when I realized this I started to panic, not a giant ZOMG the baby is bleeding panic, but a quiet “this can’t be right, I would never forget my phone” kind.   My phone is my life line. 

 

I used to harass Jason about all the time he spent on his Blackberry, typing away.  It irritated me he couldn’t focus on me without that thing.  Then I got a Pearl, I understood.  I understood so well I got a Curve less than 12 months later.  I needed that full keyboard, the larger screen.  Oh man the apps!  The apps!! 

 

I’ve got my gmail, google talk, UberTwitter.  I can’t live without my browser links I can check while Kyle plays.  Have to walk away from Txts from last night?  The world, she crashes.  I’m attached to my Blackberry like a new mom is to her nursing cups, sure one could improvise and find other solutions but why would you when you have this marvel? 

 

I couldn’t wait to get to work today, back to my red loveliness.  (Though I really, really want the purple cover.)  My rear didn’t even hit the chair before I grabbed it, hidden under my printer where my last glance before leaving the office kept it from my view.  My right hand has re-appeared. 

 

P.S.  Mom I’ll call you later.  I had no phone!

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