Loss of Cell Phone, Dignity

Dear Sir,

Thank you so much for finding my cell phone, wherever it was that I dropped it. I really, really appreciate it.

Unfortunately, the email you sent telling me that you found my cell phone only listed your phone number. And I can’t phone you, because you, sir, have my cell phone.

I know you, like most normal, functional adults, have things like cars and landlines. But I am not a normal, functional adult. I am barely a strange and incompetent adult. And I do not have a landline, only a cell phone, and you have my cell phone. And so I could not call you until the next day, at work, during a quiet moment in the afternoon.

You see, I work in a drop-in centre for the mentally ill and street involved, and we’re very busy, and so I would have called you earlier, but I was busy helping a sad man do his laundry, and feeding the hungry, and then breaking up a would-be fight.

When I got a hold of you, you gave me your address. And I said I would try to stop by that evening, when you planned on being home. And then you said, ‘before you come by, phone me,’ and I said ‘sure!’ because, sir, well, I’m stupid. And then I hung up, and swore, and thought of calling you back, but was far too embarrassed to do so.

And I really did plan on stopping by that evening, but I volunteer with this little girl with Big Sisters every week. And so I went to see her straight after work, and we went bike riding, and it took longer than I thought it would because her legs were small and she’s just learning. And after I dropped her off at home it was already 9:30 at night, and I thought you might be sleeping, and so I didn’t drop by to get my phone. And I would have called but…you know.

And then today I took my puppies and walked by your house, which was really far away, and I don’t have a car, but we found it and I knocked on your door. But you weren’t home. And I was sad.

You see, I lost my cell phone the evening before my birthday. And I don’t generally like birthdays, but my family does, and they like to call to harass me and feel happy. And they couldn’t, because I don’t have my phone. And a couple of friends tried to call, but they couldn’t leave a message, because my mailbox was full. And then the only person who got to wish me happy birthday was one client at work…but he technically wished me happy birthday the day before, and earlier today, too, and I think he might just say that to everyone every day. And I’m feeling especially lonely because my little sister was staying with me for three weeks, but she left on Monday, and so my house feels really quiet, and I’d love to talk to her, or anyone, but…You have my phone. And now I’m sad.

So if you could please email me, and let me know when you’ll next be home, so that maybe I can walk the twenty blocks back to your house to get my phone, that would be very nice of you. Thank you.

Sad,
Ivy