Found, but not turned on
I have an annoying habit of misplacing my cell phone. Some might attribute this to my disdain for telephones in general, and I think a convincing case could be made that my tendency to lose my phone is really a passive-agressive effort to sabotage the efforts of friends, family, and acquaintances to reach me via cellular. Admittedly, I have been known to cuss under my breath when the blasted cellular ring goes off.
My cellular's latest trip to Lostville lasted about nine days, so if you have tried to reach me on my cellular in that time, you have probably been irritated at me. I would be, if I were you; most people consider their telephones to be an extension of themselves, and do not understand how someone like me can detest a cell phone.
Mea maxima culpa.
I much prefer the mode of electronic mail, which does not jar me out of a contemplative reverie with a shrill noise. With email I am able to return messages when I have time, and I am not distracted by callers whose idea of urgency may not be in sync with mine.
There then sits my cellular phone, complete with all sorts of features my wife so thoughfully made sure I had when she bought it for me. I have made use of the phone book option on occasion, but I'm afraid most of the other extras sit unopened, with the same programming that the kind folks at Sanyo installed.
Now, the most important question is whether or not to turn on the cellular now that I have found the missing device. Maybe I'll pour a cup of coffee first, before I listen to the piled up messages from in my voicemail.
(historymike leaves to pour coffee, pet a dog, and load the dishwasher)
"18 new messages" was the tally from the computerized Sprint lady. Phew! It may take me a few days to get up the motivation to listen to all of those - if I were you, and you were trying to reach me, I'd send an email.