SLAVE TO THE TIMES . . .

I left my cell phone at home today by accident, and I'm all in a tizzy about it.

B.I. (before independence), I was able to call home -- if I realized my forgetfulness before about 9:30 a.m. -- and ask Omma to drive my cell phone by the courthouse on her way to work. I would run out and grab it from her with a sheepish and embarrassed "thanks," and Omma would shake her head at me, saying "you're lucky this is on my way to work!"

A.I. (after independence, naturally), I have no one to call. Ironically, I spoke with Omma on the phone this morning, as she prepared to leave L.A. to come back home. I told her about my poor phone, continuously charging on the floor at home. Omma laughed -- almost evilly! -- at me. "Ha HA! And who's going to drop your phone off for you NOW?"

Sigh.

My poor phone.

Poor me, without my phone.

Not that anyone ever calls me.
But of course, today, they will.