We started working in the public schools on Tuesday. This week I have to travel back and forth to a Catholic high school three times a day. I have to carry many things back and forth. Today, I lost my lunch. I had a bag full of fruit and vegetables. I knew I had seen it in my tote bag earlier that day. But by noon, it had disappeared. I searched my car twice, my bag three times, and the disgusting office fridge twice.
Long story short? I found it stashed on the bookshelf next to my coworker's desk.
Tonight D had to work in S's studio. He tells me they only have Long Island Lullaby left to record, but that they must "nail down" all the bits and pieces of the other songs. Fine. He must be picked up from the train (6:35) and eat before he leaves (7:30). We munched on baked potatoes and corn on the cob. (I actually baked a sweet potato, and covered it in butter, a pinch of cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, and crushed pecans. It was, as a sidenote, delicious. Today dropped down to the 60s. It feels like Fall. It was perfect.) He left.
At 7:50 I began looking for my cell phone. I wanted to call my mother, and then maybe catch up with a few friends. I looked in my purse. In the office. In the kitchen. In the closet. In my tote bag. In my bedroom. I started to get angry. I called it from the land line. I listened.
Silence.
Then I called D. "Yes, I have your cell phone. Here. In the car. But I'm almost at S's house. Your mom's number is 4crackle-9crackle-873." (We don't have the best land line ever.) After three tries for a repeat, knowing I was wasting precious studio time, I jotted my best guess and hung up.
The crackly number didn't work. So, I called my father (the only phone number I can ever remember). No one answered. I start to leave a message for him to call me back with Mom's cell number. But, as I reach the end of my rambling message, I realize: I don't even know my home phone number to have him call me back.
I am more than mildly annoyed.
