...it yet? Yes. Well, where was it? Ok, I'm ready to spill the beans.
I recently wrote about something silly that happened, and commented on how it seems that as I get older, I am more willing to confess, laugh at myself. Admit to foibles and foolish behavior. Allowing the universe to have a chuckle at my expense.
It was buried in my sleeping bag. In the back of the car, where I had stowed it when I left Valdosta in the dark on Thursday morning. Apparently I had dropped it on the bag that was on the bed, and it got tucked into the 'stuff-sack' when I was gathering up my belongings to load into the car. I normally would have taken the bag into the house when I got home on Thursday afternoon, but I knew I was leaving again early on Friday for Decatur. So it sat in the car overnight.
With me thinking I had left it someplace in south GA before I drove back home on Thursday morning. Trying to retrace my movements, plot out my steps to remember where it might have landed as I was dashing to-and-fro between Nashville and Valdosta. Urging people in the vicinity to help in the search. While it accompanied me the whole time, much to my chagrin.
To be discovered last night when I pulled the sleeping bag out of the stuff-sack, and had the phone fall out on the floor. I was so pleased to see it, I've decided to confess, and admit craziness. But not going to be embarrassed over the people I alerted, challenged to help with the fruitless search. It was not the misplaced device so much, even though it was a little mortifying to have to describe it as 'old school flip-phone', but all those people who were 'stored' in the memory. All those folks I would miss not being able to contact, friends and family I could not reach, talk with.
Calling off the rescue mission. Problem solved.
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