Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, I make a mistake. But when I do, it's usually in Biblical proportions. Saying yes to an afternoon beer was a good example, including breaking my shoulder, seven days in hospital and pain killers that left me thinking there was a party in the ward at 3.00am when, in reality, there was just a lot of snoring. My fault, no one else to blame, but I have to admit, that time the staff were awesome (and the pain killers weren't bad either).
This time I lost my phone. Doesn't sound a big deal but wait. I left it in the mountains of Japan where I've had a place for many years. A weekend with friends and a return drive on the Tuesday and arriving back in Tokyo to realise I was bereft of my communication device. The feeling is a little like one of those dreams when you're in public and the vision is that you may not have worn suitable clothing for a day out. But it get's worse.
Inside my phone case were also my credit cards. My ATM card. And a number of other items required for daily life. And now I have a serious problem. My access to cash was 185km away. And suddenly I felt very conscious of that dream scene. I even couldn't set my alarm to collect my dog from trimming (he's a cool dog by the way) as the alarm is on my phone. Couldn't even check the weather to know if I needed an umbrella! Or get on a train as the payment system is embedded in my phone.
I was a teenager the last time I didn't have access to cash or communication (in fact probably twelve or thirteen as no one had told me about area codes). My phone had given me the gift of time when I first had obtained one. No longer waiting for friends who'd cancelled and couldn't contact to let me know. Credit cards allowed me to travel the world without worrying if anything else was missing from my pocket (except my passport). I'm a wombat, I know, but a happy one today. Today I have my phone back. And I'm not letting it go again...
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