Of Toilet Bowls and Telephones

At the beginning of May, I dropped my phone in the toilet. You read that correctly. I dropped my phone in the toilet. It was in my back pocket and I forgot it was there.

I blame the nap. I was with Mr. Snark for the weekend. Country came to Town and did all she could to encourage the economy of the greater Augusta area. After a full Saturday of economy encouraging, a nap was in order. Mr. Snark stayed in The Son-in-Love Suite and I wandered to the front of the house to chat with Daddy and Mom Jean. Daddy had the French doors opened, a cool breeze was wafting through the den and they have a couch that is meant for napping!  When I woke up, I was a bit disoriented.; out of my routine, my normal surroundings. It never occurred to me to check my back pocket for my phone. I wish I had.

When I heard the odd and unexpected CLUNK, I saw my phone at the bottom of the bowl and forgot that I had to use the bathroom. Thankfully, there was rice in the pantry. It once saved a TV remote from death by apple juice. I packed the phone in the rice and crossed my fingers. And then realized my legs were crossed and remembered my original reason for being in the bathroom.

Sunday morning, the phone powered up like nothing had happened. Everything appeared to be functional. On the drive back to SMALLtown, I saw streaks on the home screen. They looked like beams of light passing through my picture. Hmmm. Then, a bubble appeared in the lower right corner. I ordered a new phone, to be delivered within twenty four hours. Good thing...I tried to use the camera and found out that it only worked in "selfie" mode. Made me wonder about folks that do nothing but post selfies...did they drop their phones in the toilet, too? Ordered the phone Monday and as promised, it was delivered on Tuesday.

And finally, we come to the REAL story.

New phone in hand, with screen protector in place, I started the process of bringing the new device to life. I read the instructions. They seemed uncomplicated. HAH!

One of the first things I had to do was open the compartment for the new SIM card. Using an opened paper clip (that's what the instructions said to use), I pulled out the little tray and inserted the SIM card into the phone. Because that's what the directions said. What they should have said and what should have been illustrated in the instructions, was "Place SIM card into tray and insert tray into the phone."

Can you guess what happened when I put the free floating SIM card into the phone?  IT GOT STUCK!  Can you guess what I did when I realized that the SIM card was stuck? I FREAKED OUT!

Not some minor fit, not a Grade C temper tantrum.  Oh, no...this was a full fledged come apart. There was an abundance of whining, bawling, sobbing and hiccupping over a phone. Not the death of a loved one, not because of a life altering tragedy. A phone!  Shameful!  In front of the kids, too! Both boys and The Girl! My joke is that she's been keeping company with Y1 since October 2015 and we hadn't scandalized her. I've had to eat those words.

I patted the phone on my hand.  I gently tapped it on the desk. I patted it, more feverishly, against my hand. Nothing. Panic ensued. Hot flashes commenced. Stomach turned to knots. New round of wailing and teeth gnashing. All three children tried to speak sense to me. With great effort, but I was firmly in the grasp of my irrational self and wasn't listening.

"I have to go to the bathroom!  WHIIIINE!!! I'll be right back! MMMOOOAAN, SNORT!"
"Mama, give me your phone. This is how we got here."
Right, right. God bless my oldest child for his wisdom.

When I came out of the bathroom, Y1 and The Girl were sitting at the desk. He had the phone and the aforementioned paperclip. She had THE Flashlight. (Y'all this flashlight is so bright, the boys used it to flag down the pizza delivery car, after we first moved in here!  The beam travels from our front porch to the trees across the highway...a good fifty or sixty yards.) In the brief moments when the wailing ceased, it was sweet to watch them and listen to them, as they worked on the imprisoned SIM card.
"Babe," said he, "could you lower the beam a bit? All I'm getting is light."
"I'm sorry. How's that, better?" asked she.
"Perfect. Like you. I love you." said he.

Being the 21st century kids that they are, Y1 decided to G**gle our predicament. Sure enough, there were answers a plenty. It encouraged my heart, ever so slightly, to see that others had done exactly what I did. A proffered solution of taking the phone to the nearest A**le store offered no encouragement. What it did was set off a fresh wave of panic. The nearest A**le store is two hours from us. SSSSOOOOOBBBBBBBB!!  Y2 had homework to finish, but couldn't for my hysterics. Instead, he put his arms around me and whispered soothing words.
"Hmmm, Son?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"You are precious and I love you and thank you. But you need a shower."
"Right. Yes ma'am. It will be fine, Mama. Don't forget to breathe."
Y1 took a turn trying to soothe the savage beast that had taken over my body. Even The Girl, God bless her bones!  When she wrapped her delicate, little, feminine arms around me, I was very ashamed of myself. Over a phone! This was nuts! Who does this? Uh, me...apparently. Goodness gracious!  She was so sweet and kind and gentle and completely non-judgmental. My son chose well.

I took another turn with the phone. More patting, to no avail. Rummaged through the myriad of kitchen utensils because as most females will tell you, those kitchen utensils are prone to multipurpose functions. Nothing seemed more appropriate for the job than the paper clip. And a prayer.

DUH!!!! Should have been my first reaction. Sadly, it wasn't. I went into my room,left the phone with the college kids, and prayed. My mind quieted and my spirit stilled and I was very aware of how silly I had acted. It was just a phone; truly not worth all of the fuss. I walked into the kitchen to get some water. Having a Grade-A melt down really dehydrates a girl. There came a victorious interjection from the other room. The SIM card was out!  The remaining steps to activating the new phone were deliciously uncomplicated and absent of hysterics. To be honest, I think I bankrupted my supply of hysterics.  Over a phone!  Seriously, who does that?

The moral of this story is quite simple:  CHECK YOUR POCKETS BEFORE GOING TO THE BATHROOM! I hope you weren't expecting anything more philosophical than that.


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