SO, I dropped my cell phone in the toilet. I know, classy. It’s true.Last Thursday I was running out the door, had to rush Simon along so I could go, before we were late for pick up. As I stood to flush – phone in the toilet. Again in my life though, – not my fault. I swear.
My mother keeps everything, and I do mean, EVERYTHING in her bra. I have been calling it her bra-ket (like a bra pocket) since I was about 15. She, in fact, loses things in there. One time my cousin had to break into our parked car in downtown Seattle, because my mom had “lost” her keys. Yeah, come to find out, lost them in her BRA!
Why do I refer to bra-ket stories, mid toilet-in-phone stories? Uh, well. Mmm. OKAY!!! I admit it! I’ve adopted a bra-ket of my own. There. It’s out. Fine. (ONLY for my cell phone though.)
It was while in my bra-ket that the phone slipped from the snug grip of my bosom, into the vast abyss of toilet waste. (numero uno – luckily) Maybe all this working out is paying off, and in fact my greatly endowed size is in fact melting away?!
Oh, who am I kidding. I wish.
But to tell the end of the sad story, well that is the end of the cell phone. I stood looking into the toilet, waffling – “Uh. Umm. Uh. Okay – just stick your hand in and grab itttt….NOW!” I grabbed, rinsed, and Lysol wiped all in one fail swoop.
But. It’s dead. I think the rinse under running water may have been the true demise, but one can never tell. And really, can I risk unmentionables drying on my phone? (ie; potty) And then talking on it? Well of course I can’t. So now, it’s sanitary AND dead.
Dear Santa,
Please bring me a water, toilet, sink, sanitary wipe proof phone.
Love,
The Germ-a-phobe
1 comment:
Oh I hope your letter gets to Santa in time. I called you on Saturday and Peter told me of the demise of your phone because I asked if I could call you on it! Have you tried a blow dryer in the charger end. Sometimes that works. And I'm sure "the girls" are getting smaller and that's why it fell out of the bra-ket!
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