Cordless Phones and Dumpsters

I lose my cordless phone all the time. I find it under clothes in the closet, in my kitchen cupboards, under the table, crammed between cushions on the sofa, and of course, my favorite hiding spot is in the refrigerator.

I don't like having to use the big, round locator button on the phone's base. I tend to believe that in such a small area, I should be able to find it easily enough without help. So, I retrace my steps. That's how I figured out I was putting my Parmesan cheese back in the refrigerator when Mom and I finished up our conversation one night. And there the phone was, cold but not too badly frostbitten.

Today, I had to resort to using the locator button, because I wanted to use the phone to return a call from my best friend, Colleen. When I did not hear that familiar chirping sound at all, I asked myself, "Is the phone dead?" Then I remembered getting a call earlier this morning-some phone solicitor harassing me about changing my long-distance service. I don't know what company thinks of selling long-distance service at 8:15 in the morning. I was barely awake at that time, and not even worrying about work, since it was a Saturday.

There was a knock at the door. Opening it, I found my neighbor, Sally, who is around 80. She is slim, with curly blonde hair, glasses, and she always dresses up, no matter whether it is just to go get the mail. I had never seen her with even a hair out of place, and I often wondered why I couldn't be more like her.