The one where I lost my phone

You know how I switched back to a basic candy-bar phone at the start of the year? I’ve been using it mostly as a destination for text messages when logging into social networking sites. I also use it as a destination for “one time codes” for the bank account – when I make a payment for anything through online banking, it sends a code to the phone, and I key it in to validate the transaction. This all works wonderfully – until you lose your damn phone.

Yes, I lost my phone. I imagine it went missing at some point over the weekend. While it would be so easy to claim somebody stole it from me in London (which is a very real possibility), I have no doubt it will turn up in the next few days. Of course I’ve already called the phone company, and re-set all the two-factor authentication things to use my work phone.

Those first minutes though – when I realised the phone was missing – they were awful. A kind of empty dread swept through me. I walked into the lounge and asked if anybody had seen the phone – even though I knew nobody would have. I’m SUCH a creature of habit – the phone lives in the same place in my bag, or in my trousers. I looked through the washing, and emptied my bag. Twice. Quite why I imagined it might turn up on a second search through the bag is a very good question indeed.

After spending the first hour of the day at work on the phone to both the phone company, and the bank, a new SIM card will arrive on Friday. Of course I will have no handset to put it in, but at least I’ll have it ready for when we finally buy some new phones at home.

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