There needs to be some sort of warning device installed on a person, so that when that person becomes more than 10 feet away from their beloved iPhone, a buzzer sounds. I need that. I’d willfully subject myself to the gun injection of a microchip that will sound a faint beep in my ear. Or a blaring klaxon. Anything to prevent the shock and horror of
June 29th, the day I forgot my iPhone at home.
I emailed my sister to ask her to check my dining room table to confirm I did leave it there when I dashed off to work. Just in case it was <gasp!> lost. She sent me a pic of it laying on my table.
And then one of it pumping iron.
(the poor pic quality is because she uses a sub-standard Blackberry).
Now that my beloved is done exercising, it’s now sunning itself with tropical fruit and a refreshing Coconut Water beverage.
I have 6 more hours to go before I’m off and live too far to dash home and stop this nonsense.
Oh no… those black eyes are the telltale sign that Mitzi is under the influence of 
