I headed outside and focused on morning chores: horses, chickens, cleaning and then walked back to the house. I wondered where I put my phone (which was not unusual at all) and then realized it was IN the comforter, IN the washer (very unusual).
The result was what Apple calls, "catastrophic damage." There wasn't enough rice in the world to fix this problem.
My phone, my best friend, my constant companion was MIA. I immediately was at a loss as to what I was doing. My personal assistant tracked that. I had no idea my sister's phone number either. My PA was in charge of that too. Life seemed to be at a standstill.
Thankfully, the repair tech reminded me of iCloud, who, seriously is now my #1 BFF because she saved me, more importantly my 2,000 photos, and my calendar. Although I have what seems like triple backups, this one fails (external hard drive), and that one somehow doesn't work (Google photo), and I'm left feeling like the main character in, "Just My Luck."
Photos safe, and a calendar in front of me, I went through a withdrawal of 8 days. I was surprised how much easier it was than I thought. Previously, accidentally leaving my phone at home was a disaster of epic proportions. Now: a mere blip on the screen. I liken the ease to my 80s childhood when, gasp, I had to stop somewhere if I wanted to use the phone. If I took pictures I had to wait 2 weeks for the prints. And if I wanted to know something I had to go to the library.
I had become ensnared by the very thing I thought was providing me more freedom, more time, and easier living. My leash had become tighter and tighter with each new model, twisting around me until I could no longer move without moving the leash too.
My catastrophic event brought me movement I didn't realize was missing: time to read, time to focus, time to play.
A blessing wrapped in camouflage.
