so sometimes, we all have bad days, but today... today really didn't need to start out the way it did.
i had to be at babysitting at 7.40, which let's face it, i was already a bit bleh about because 1-i haven't gotten up early than 7 in a while and 2-i'm not a morning person. nonetheless, i said no problem, because outside of my disdain for early light, it wasn't.
until, i couldn't find my car key... anywhere. and not just like oh haha it fell under the table anywhere- ANYWHERE. i still don't know where it is.
(yes, it's one of those livejournal style rant entries, i'm afraid.)
so once i'm officially going to be over 10 minutes late and have torn my room apart, i start freaking out, because one can only take so much, even less when you've had a cookie for breakfast and 4 hours of sleep. there's crying, there's a reluctant bryan bringing me to work. oh but wait, then there's me forgetting my phone in his car.
now the culture of cell phones in general, amuses me. we were all doing fine without them, and while i like to have it around "just in case" as many claim- the line of paranoia which inspires many a parent to whip out the dough to get one for betty sue (how else would she get popular with a name like that anyway?) - i feel a bit naked without it. or in this case, stranded. i'll be here for 10 hours. i have no outside connnection, and i don't know if bryan will find me to bring me home. eek!
so okay, a bit of panic returns. i'm with the kid, he's well-behaved, so i start the hunt to track bryan down. do i remember his cell phone number? of course not, why would i know the number of the boy i love or anything? i mean, honestly. so i try and call my phone, thinking that then he'll know it's there and i'll get to talk to him.
i dial. a guy picks up. "hey, it's me."
"who's me?" he says
"me. what do you mean who's me? it's me."
"who is this?"
i then realize that unless bryan has a deathwish, he would not be messing with me like this. this is not him.
"who is this?" i ask back.
he hangs up.
so i call back. i ask him what number this is. he asks me who i'm trying to reach. i say i'm trying to reach MY phone. he hangs up. now i'm starting to think i've gone mad. i check to make sure i even know my own cell phone number.
i call back again. "what number are you trying to call?" he asks.
"what number is this? that shouldn't be hard for you to answer if this is your phone," i say. now i'm wondering where the hell my phone went in the last half hour.
"what number are you dialing?" he asks me, somewhere after asking me if i'm on crack.
i tell him. he hangs up.
great. now someone may have taken my phone? and where is bryan? what's going on?!
i start to cry again. gonzo narrates, "blow your nose!"
what to do, what to do. call mom! my mom has bryan's number, and it's damn near the only number i know these days.
i dial. nondescript voicemail. i contemplate the craziness of saying, "mom? mom, it's me..." into the blankness. i hang up. something is messed up. i try to call my house, it says the phone has been disconnected, only this time, i find out from the automated operator that their phone automatically adds the damn AREA CODE to EVERY NUMBER! you don't hear it, but somehow, it's there. list of things that could have been easily resolved if the douche who picked up in the first place had told me his damn number. soooo after calling reslife to find out my apartment number, i finally got in touch with bryan, and he will be able to get in touch with me to find me later.
now, i'd say that the moral of the story is to keep the phone numbers you need on hand, or even to not lose your keys, but are these things ever meant to happen? of course not. how about this, if someone calls you and seems confused, don't assume that they're on crack. you never know the kind of day they're having. just think about all the terrible, rotten, no good, horrible bad days you've had, and help a brother out already. cell phones should help you, not make you rude.
oh, and if you could tell me where my car keys are, that'd be great.
