After a wonderful Mother’s Day yesterday (great 21km race, French toast, beautiful flowers from you, divine sushi lunch), my iPhone got stolen, straight from my handbag with you in the trolley, while I was trying to pay for parking.
The iPhone that I’ve been accused of being anti-social with (I’m not arguing), the iPhone with the hot-pink Griffin cover, the iPhone with all your games, the iPhone that connects me to work, people and what’s going on in your life when I’m not with you.
I’m in two minds about this all: one is calm, rational and sensible, while the other is a little emotional. Here’s how it works:
Mind one: it’s just a “thing”, we are both still well and healthy, at least I’m in a position in life to have a great phone, these things happen all the time, this phone is now supporting someone else, it’s replaceable and everything retrievable, I’ll survive being offline or without a phone for a few days
Mind two: I’m angry someone messed with my stuff and took something I’ve worked hard towards, I feel like an idiot for losing focus and not realising it was being taken, I worry about losing contact, I worry about all the phone admin interfering with everything I have to do. And a deeper part of me is asking if I brought this on somehow, if it’s “punishment”, or if there’s a lesson here (detach, focus on people, look after your possessions, don’t be careless).
I guess there’s no right or wrong way to feel here, so I might as well go through the motions, toying between feeling Zen about it, and like a total tosser. And smiling at the thought of a possible upgrade, while screaming out of anger in my car because I was perfectly happy with the “old” one.
I’ll laugh soon. And tweet from my new phone. And close my bag properly. And let go.
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