I’ve been looking everywhere for my phone for four days now. EVERYWHERE. Including, but not limited to: under the couch, in the couch, in the chairs, in the freezer, in the fridge, in boxes in the garage, in boxes in the house, every toy bin we own. Where did I find it? My mom’s house. (On the edge of the couch, where I set it to pick up some kid stuff I needed to take home with me when I ran back over to check her thermostat.)


Most annoying part of the whole situation: out of 20 missed calls, only two messages were left.