I'd Like To Introduce You

Long about last Thursday I missed an appointment with the ENT guy. He was only going to give me some results of a test I'd taken the previous Saturday, so I wasn't that concerned when I looked at the clock and realized I was supposed to be there. I called his office and asked if he could just give me a call instead of me having to reschedule. His office staff agreed, saying he'd call me after clinic hours that evening. I gave them the number of my cell phone, then took it with me wherever I went for the remainder of the day and into the night.

He never called. It was like waiting for a call from the guy I liked so much I thought I WOULD DIE in ninth grade if he didn't call me and of course he never did and I died a thousand deaths all over again.

Only not.

At the ungodly hour of seven ayem in the morning the next day, the phone at my house rang. I, being One Who Will Not Be Wakened, let it ring and went back to sleep. Only later, when I arose from my sleep-induced coma, did I realize it was probably the doctor calling me back.

And only later did I also realize I'd misplaced the cell phone that I swore would not leave my side until he did.

I am a fickle being.

The cell phone is gone, folks. Vanished. And I am inconsolable in my grief. I'm thinking about putting up posters, but the only place I could put them would be around my house and car, because that's the only place I had it. I loved my cell phone. It was so very perfect for me.

But now all I have left of Trace are the memories...(sniff!)...

Since being without a cell phone is almost like being without an appendage nowadays, I went to Phone Store yesterday to see if I could get a replacement for Trace. Naturally, Trace is no longer being made. Naturally, I do not qualify for the maximum discount since it has not been long enough between the time I got Trace and now. So I decided to purchase one of the El Cheapo brands of phones just to get me through.

Ladies and Gentlemen, please let me introduce you to B.U.C. (Butt-Ugly Communicator). He will be the stand-in for Trace until I can take advantage of my full discount sometime in August.

Yes, it's baby-poop green, has irritatingly cheap-sounding rings, no camera, and I really, really, really dislike it. Add to that the fact that the company I use promised me all my contacts were saved online until I needed them (they weren't) and now I have to re-enter each and every one.

There is one bright note. If, by some miraculous work of the Almighty, I am able to find Trace before the next thirteen days are up, I will be able to take this monstrosity back to whence it came and ne'er worry again.

Until then, I'm stuck...with B.U.C.