Static Cling and Toilets

Now that I have your attention, let me give you a brief synopsis of my day yesterday.

Static Cling is not your friend:

January 8, 2009 started out as a normal day. It was Ron’s birthday, so I wished him Happy Birthday and went about my business of getting ready for work. Once I was dressed, I checked my image in the mirror – making sure everything was covered, no “lines” where I didn’t want them, and that the outfit looked appropriate.

I walked around the house a bit, talked some more to Ron, chatted with Amy and got her approval on my choice of clothing (she is the fashion police at my house; she nixed my first choice of shoes – that’s a whole different subject of it’s own), got my coat on, and left for work.

I’m one of those people who can’t stand to be bundled up, I don’t like my clothing (or coats) bunching up, and if I feel like I’m being constricted in any way I can have a panic attack. I’m working hard on working through these things that I *know* won’t hurt me but still bother me. My goal is to make myself get accustomed to things that are not my ideal state of being so when I’m forced into an uncomfortable situation then I will be able to adjust and adapt easier.

As I was driving in I felt like my jacket was bunched up under my rear. Since I was driving, I couldn’t very well stop or move in a safe manner to fix the problem. I decided it was one of those occasions where I needed to just live with it until I got to work. Once I got out of my car and started walking in, I realized the “bunch” was still there, only it was moving down the back of my leg.

Since there were people behind me, I was trying very hard to not lose whatever it was in my pant leg, but also to not be obvious that I had one hand on my thigh. Luckily, there’s a ladies room on the lower level where I enter the building so I headed there to check out the situation. Once I was safely out of sight, I stuck my hand down the back of my jeans and pulled out a “spare” article of clothing. I was sooooo thankful it hadn’t exited the leg of my pants on its own.

A tale of toilets and telephones:

I’m not in the habit of taking my cell phone to the rest room with me but yesterday was an exception. I was expecting a call and although I wouldn’t answer it if I was indisposed, I would be able to see if it was the call I needed and send it directly to voice mail.

I’ve often wondered if the pocket of my jeans was deep enough to contain my phone. I found the answer yesterday afternoon. It was not.

Luckily, I had flushed and the only thing in the toilet was fresh water that had come in from the rim. As I’m adjusting my jeans, out pops the phone and down the drain it goes. The first words out of my mouth were not nice ones, but they started with “Oh” and ended with “*&it”. My phone didn’t actually fit in the hole, which was good, but it did get wedged in the hole. I had to stick my arm (up to my elbow) in the toilet bowl to retrieve it.

The phone did turn itself off and then tried to turn back on. I may have fixed that by deciding to wash the phone. Even if it killed it, I would rather have a dead phone (which has insurance) than a phone with toilet germs on it. Once I returned to my desk, I further sanitized it by spraying Lysol on it.

I took the phone battery off, dried the components, and hoped for the best. I think it’s dead. Lucky for me, I’m eligible to replace my phone tomorrow with the “new customer” pricing. I've picked out the BlackBerry Curve 8330 in pink.


BTW, I scrubbed my arm really well.