This is one of those things that could only happen to me.

Or maybe, I’m just the only person without enough sense to keep it to myself. – but I have to tell someone – so why not tell everyone? (And, yes, this is how my brain works.)

So, I’m at my computer and I pick up my cell phone to call my sister to wish her a happy birthday; only I realize I really need to go pee first.  So, off I go to the bathroom.  While in the bathroom, while sitting on the toilet, I also change Berta’s pee pads around the litter box.  Got to love some multitasking.

I wipe, flush and wash my hands and head to the bedroom (so my phone call won’t disturb my husband – who is working at his computer in the living room). I sit on the bed and realize – I don’t seem to have my phone. 

WTF? 

I check my bra (which is where I usually carry my phone). 

Nope. Not there.

Okay, must have left it in the bathroom, right?

Nope.  Not there.

Okay, must have left it by my computer, right?

Nope.  Not there.

Well, seriously, where the fuck is my phone?

I am truly baffled.  We have a wee house. There are not that many places where my phone could be but I simply could not find it anywhere.  I consider calling myself on our landline but I was up at an unreasonably early hour for some lab work and I just really wanted to lay down and read for a bit.  Which I did. 

Now I have two alarms set for each and every weekday – one at 12:55 (to start work) and one at 5:00 (to stop work).  Because, no, I cannot be trusted to keep track of time well enough to start and stop work on time.

So at 12:55, I’m sound asleep, and my start-work alarm goes off! 

Hooray (I think) – I can hear it.  The phone must be in the bedroom somewhere.  I sit up, to try and figure out where that fucking phone is.  Oddly, the sound of the alarm gets quieter – almost muffled. 

I stand up, thinking I must be laying on it.  Nope.

Then, and only then, do I realize that my underpants feel weird – like they don’t fit right. 

No.  It couldn’t possibly be ….

I pull down my drawers, and nestled in the crotch of my underpants is my cell phone.

I immediately realize, that when changing the pee pads, I leaned very far forward, and because I’m wearing a camisole with a shelf-bra that often fails to keep my phone safely stowed, the phone must have fallen out of my camisole, somehow landing flat on the crotch of my underpants, and stayed there when I pulled everything up after peeing.

Seriously. You can’t make this shit up.

And thank God (TIDBI) for antiseptic wipes.

And now I am pretty sure that none of you are going to be asking to borrow my phone anytime soon.