I Feel Naked

It’s amaz­ing. I reg­u­larly walk around shirt­less and bare­foot with­out a thought. Yet leav­ing the house with­out my cell phone leaves me jit­tery. Nor­mally I come home, plug it into the charger and that’s that. I know where it is and can always find it. Last night though it got left some­where and I don’t know where it is. I’m sure it is in the house or in my car, but I just couldn’t find it this morning.

The cell phone is such an exten­sion of me that I’m sit­ting her very con­sciously aware of its absence. I can’t pull it out to text some­one or to check the time or even to pass the time with the won­ders of Tetris. Thank­fully I have my lap­top so I can at least be com­forted in that I am not com­pletely out of touch with the world.

Per­haps feel­ing naked isn’t quite right. Los­ing my cell phone makes me feel sim­i­lar to hav­ing lost my voice, I feel as if I can’t speak and com­mu­ni­cate right now.

It’s an odd feel­ing. I guess I’m a tech­nol­ogy addict.

Update 4:54pm — So it turns out that the phone appar­ently got left at the gas sta­tion last night and fell into the hands of some bums. I called it this morn­ing try­ing to locate it and got an answer, so I assumed I had mis­di­aled. I got no answer when I called again. My friend K called it to see if it was at her place and got an answer.

From what I can piece together, I left the phone on top of the gas pump. Then as I pulled off a bum half waved at me, I point­edly ignored him and now I won­der if maybe he was try­ing to tell me I had left my phone on the pump in hopes of get­ting a few bucks. Oops.

So appar­ently the taxi dri­ver bought it off the bum for $10. This is a Sprint Katana phone, not top of the line, but worth more than $10 in resale value. I’ve got the driver’s phone num­ber and will call him in a lit­tle while in hopes of set­ting up a time to meet some­where and get my phone. Updates as I have them.

Update 11:45pm — In what must have looked like a drug deal to some, I reac­quired my cell phone in exchange for $20 through a van’s win­dow in a very short con­ver­sa­tion. All is well.