Gah. I am so furious at myself. Last week, smashed my iphone. Dropped it and it just shattered. Have dropped it a million times before but it landed face down. It still worked, just the glass was smashed, but I was having battery problems as well. Ever since we got back from overseas it hasn't held charge. So I booked in with the genius dudes at Bondi Apple. After seeing the pic of Marcel on my screen saver, the young chap and I chatted about dogs for a while, he told me usually they shine a light inside to see if the phone is water damaged but didn't even bother to do that. He said he'd replace it for me no charge, they had none in stock so I'd have to come back. Cool.
Friday afternoon I pick up the new phone. Awesome
Saturday afternoon, go out for drinks at the Norfolk to farewell Bel. I hadn't drunk much (too many rugby fans there), it wasn't late and was going to public transport it home. BUT it was freezing so I hopped in a cab.
The driver was so weird. Whinged the whole way about how it was a quiet day, he doesn't like my suburb, house prices in Sydney are too high blah blah. I had my phone out the whole time going 'mmm' and 'ah ha' at everything he said, he was too strange to argue with.
I get out of the cab, realise straight away I've left my phone in there, grab Mr CB's phone, call mine, cabbie answers, hangs up and turns my phone off.
I frantically do the 'find my iphone' software (after reading this article it was fresh in my mind. Software doesn't work. Google, find out it only works when the phone is on.
Realise I'm not getting my phone back, cancel sim, get told my weirdo at Optus it takes 24 hours. WHAT? Speak to someone else, it takes 20 minutes actually.
Mr CB, in his half asleep haze, asks me why I had my phone out in the cab anyway. Lost it a bit.
Come to grips with the fact that I have lost a phone that's 24 hours old. Curse, bang fists, do a million what-ifs?
Yesterday I was so cranky, hadn't slept, smashed our coffee plunger (a wedding present), ran into our coffee table, smashed my knee, broke the leg of it. Have minor breakdown. Spend the day on the couch feeling sorry for myself.
Watch 60 Minutes and see the Morcombe famiy and 9/11 recaps. Snap out of self pity and realise it's just a phone. Cry at unfairness of Daniel's fate and remarkable courage and determination of his parents.
Still can't watch footage of 9/11 without shaking my head and thinking it can't be real. I remember waking up in bed in the middle of the night having left the TV on, watching the planes hit the towers, turning the TV off and going back to sleep thinking it was a movie. Woke up a few minutes later for some reason and turned the TV back on, sat up til dawn watching it over and over.