I've got a ten minute wait till the bus comes. Let's see if I can do this in full.
Yesterday, I lost my cell phone, for the second time in as many weeks. Last time, it had fallen out of my pocket, then disappeared behind a seat. This time, it was a chair in a library. There is a lesson here: my phone is so eager to get away from me that it's flinging itself into strange places.
This time was particularly irritating, though, because I didn't even notice it was missing until I got a Facebook message from a family member with Big News. (It was good news, but it's not mine to share, so we'll remain vague.) It wasn't the sort of news that you normally share over facebook, so I teased him/her about that, and got the message back that they DID try to contact me, but I never carry my stupid phone.
Realizing it was missing, I went into a frenzy, searching the house, retracing my steps, even biking back to the university to continue the search there. It was a bit of an overreaction, to be honest, but I was convinced that it was really important for me to get the phone back as soon as possible to contact said family member. (Incidentally, the only reason I haven't yet is because I don't want to interrupt their day; if family member reads this, by any chance, let me know when a good time to call would be.) And it was important for me to convey the effort I went to to find the phone as soon as possible. I felt guilty. I feel guilty. Not just for losing the phone (if I felt guilty about losing things, I'd never get anything done.) but for not being there for the news. The worst thing about moving out east is not being there for my family. And sure, it's not like they needed me there, but... that doesn't make it any better, you know? I missed out. I feel about it, and even though I know I'll get over it... it's not a great feeling.