Shoveling Consequences

Once, I lost my car keys.  And my house keys.  While I was 2 hours away from home.  Then I made Chris drive for five hours, with a time out to break into two homes.  Then I wrote about it.  Then I was shamed and cried for 2.3 hours and swore I’d never do such a thing again.

And I didn’t.

Until last weekend.

When after waking up sore from the previous days shoveling craziness, I encountered a driveway full of snow.

So I shoveled it again, only to have to go scavenge for my car in the side parking lot.  Thankfully, all of my neighbors were amazing and we all carried the snow from around our cars across the street, so nobody got more buried as a result of shoveling.

But that’s when tragedy struck.

Around the corner, knee-deep in snow, struggling to unearth my car, I heard something.

Do do do do do, DO DO DO, do do do…Is that my phone? I asked myself.  No, surely not, I reasoned, as I returned to shoveling.

And then I heard it again.  I remembered having my phone in my sweatshirt pocket as I’d shoveled the driveway.  Now that phone had mysteriously disappeared

But I had a sneaking, terrible suspicion.

So that’s when I took a broom to the snow I’d so diligently shoveled.

Oh, I’d tried calling first, but with the immediate voicemail response, my phone let me know I’d missed my two chances, and if I wanted to find it now, I’d need to put in some effort.

Skye and Lindsey were kind enough to come over and help in the search and rescue mission, though we had no idea what to do.

Obviously, we decided to move the snow from the piles surrounding my driveway to the piles across the street, making sure to sift through each load as not to miss my phone.

We did this for roughly an hour and a half, focusing on the right side of the driveway where my mom swore she’d though the ringing had originated.

As it happened, it wasn’t even deep inside a snow drift, but rather resting above the snow.

I have no explanation as to its location.  Either I was turning so violently while shoveling that my phone managed to swing out of my pocket, arc through the air and land 2-3 feet higher than it started, or it had fallen onto the ground and I shoveled it.

Sadly, it is my innocent (oh-so-recently-shoveled) driveway that had to bear the price.

What is with my sudden inability to keep track of possessions?  I’ve decided it is senility that’s to blame.  After all, I did turn 24 years old recently.  Clearly I’ve started to regress.

Or maybe I’m just ditzy.

I guess we’ll never know.

Deep in Denial,
Megan