Phoney-phone
Whenever I can't find my phone, I always whine to Dave. "Where's my phoney-phone?" I say, my voice ratcheting up into the high ceilings and then plummeting down to the floor in the familiar pitch pattern of the classic whine. Why is it always getting lost? It has nothing to do with me. It's just contrary that way. The other day I couldn't find my phoney-phone (I only call it that when I lose it; don't ask me why) and after whining to Dave, he called it on his iPhone. I walked around the house and heard it, muffled and weak, somewhere in the vicinity of the bedroom.
"I can hear it," I told him, "but I can't find it."
He came in the bedroom. "It must be outside," he said. (He's probably remembering the time he went outside to see if I left it in my car, and by following the ringing he instead found it on the potting bench. This is why you should never, never put your phone on silent!)
I went outside, but couldn't hear it or see it. I came back inside and looked at the foot of the bed where things sometimes fall into the crevice between the footboard and the mattress, and there it was-- my beloved/incorrigible phoney-phone!
On Saturday, however, it wasn't me who lost a phone. It was Dave. "Where's my phone?" he said in a tone of wonderment as he doesn't often lose it. I spun into action. He always helps me find my phone and maybe this time I could be the hero! I grabbed my phone--I knew where it was, hooray--and called his phone. Nothing. But then, he always has his phone on vibrate. What? Has he learned nothing from my experiences??? It dates from the days when he was in lots of meetings, and everyone always looked askance at the person whose phone was always ringing and interrupting someone's bilious outburst (hm, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing). But anyway, I told him to try the app, "Where's my iPhone," which from experience with my phoney-phone getting lost on a regular basis, I knew would pull up a map that showed you where it was, like the time I left my phone on the floor under the table at Stonefire Grill (not on purpose!).
So he used the app. I thought it might show that it was left at Smart and Final where we had just been shopping, and where Dave, in a rare moment of absent mindedness, had almost left his satchel in the shopping cart. The map pinpointed our house, so we knew it was here. Yet, another comprehensive sweep of the premises availed nothing. Hm. So I got my phone (I still knew where it was!) and dialed his number again, thinking to listen even more carefully for vibration noises. To my surprise, someone answered. A woman. "Um," I said, thinking quickly very slowly, "My husband can't find his phone?" And she said she had it, and I (dumbly) said, "Really?" and she said she was at Smart and Final, would wait for us in the fruit area and was wearing a Patagonia shirt. I was impressed with her acumen. She gave me all the information I would need.
Sure enough, there she was in the fruit section, wearing a Patagonia T-shirt, (and a mask, of course, like all of us) and she was watching for us. I lifted a finger and she nodded and gave us the phone, which she had found in her shopping cart just as I called. She was tall and pretty, a lovely Latina woman with long dark hair. We thanked her. Dave tried to give her a $20, but she refused it. (What a gal!)
It turned out later that when Dave used the Where's my iPhone app, it had found his iPad. We knew where that was!