I got a hankering about 9 p.m. for a cuppa joe and some time by myself, so I hied me to the local Starbucks.
The kids were out in the driveway playing some sort of game with a ball and Hubster was sitting on the stoop watching them. My car was parked next to the street, so I bid them all a fond farewell and left to indulge.
Usually it's somewhat of a straight shot between my house and the local java joint. On a good day I can walk there in ten minutes. A drive takes about three. However, the road that provides the direct route is closed for repairs in one area for a few days and there's a detour through a neighborhood just before the entrance. I wound my way around the roads and came up the hill to park in front of the door.
As I got ready to get out of the car I noticed my phone. Apparently I'd been "rocking out" to the oldies on the radio station and didn't realize it was ringing. Someone had called me FIVE TIMES since I left the house.
The phone immediately began to ring again. I picked it up, and Hubster was on the other end.
"When you left, you had The Girl's cell phone on the hood of your car. She put it there when she was playing ball in the driveway."
"I don't suppose it's still there?" hopefully.
Lo and behold, upon the hood of my car was a cell phone. It hadn't slipped. It hadn't fallen. It hadn't gotten lost or crumpled or mangled or spindled or damaged in any way.
It was there.
How amazing is that?
The Girl and Boyfriend showed up immediately to claim it, and I settled down with a decaf to celebrate. A little James Taylor on the MP3 to drown out the blaring music here, a little writing on the laptop.
And no extra charge.