Speaking of cell phones, I spent over an hour worrying about the whereabouts of my cell phone. I didn't think I had left it on the table at a potluck last night. I couldn't find it in any of my pockets, pants, jacket, or shirt. It wasn't in the car. It wasn't on the dining room table or buried in the stack of newspapers. I couldn't find it on our dresser. I couldn't find it on my cluttered desk, even when I moved the clutter around.
I called my cell phone and received immediately the message: "Either my phone is turned off or I am driving. Please leave a message and I'll return your call as soon as possible." Because it answered immediately it was turned off.
OK, I guess I'll suspend service. I went to Verizon's website, signed in, and suspended the service.
For some reason I wondered about the charging unit for the phone. I looked at an outlet on my desk's backboard and saw the charger plugged in with the cord dangling down. At the end of the cord was my cell phone, hidden by one of the freestanding speakers for my computer.
I went to Verizon's website and restored service. I called our home phone with my cell phone and the former rang right away.
As my wife says often, "It's around here someplace."
