One day without a phone

I accidentally left my iPhone at home yesterday. Here's what happened. 7:42 a.m. SHEER PANIC. While driving to the train station I realize that I've left the phone and don't have time to turn back to get it. I think about all of the morning meetings I might not be aware of. I try to think of how to let people know I don't have my phone. I can't tweet. I can't text. I can't call. I scramble while driving, uncovering every piece of paper and wrapper to make sure I didn't miss it. I'm not. I feel so cold and alone.

8:05 a.m. I'm on the train, so I have Internet connectivity with my laptop. I'm able to check and send mail. Still, I miss my music player and the connectivity isn't as fast as my phone. Grr.

8:55 a.m. I get off the train and reach for my earbuds. They're not there. How in God's name do I make the walk across the street to work with out my morning tunes?!

9:10 a.m. Still bummed I didn't have music for the morning block walk. Coffee isn't good today either. FML.

10:08 a.m. I freak out because I went downstairs to buy better tasting coffee but forgot to check if I had a 10 a.m. meeting. I have no phone to reference for my calendar. I run back upstairs to check Outlook. No meeting, thankfully, but lack of phone is making me paranoid.

10:31 a.m. I'm tweeting from my desktop PC. Lame.

10:36 a.m. A coworker comes over to tell me about cool new iPhone app. I can't download it. I give him the finger.

11:30 a.m. I remember that I brought some iTunes gift cards (Thanks, Amanda!) with me to work to download some new music onto my phone. I have the gift cards, Macbook Pro and connection cable all on hand. Missing: iPhone. Anger overwhelms me. I get that Jack-Nicholson-in-The-Shining look across my face. These cubicles will likely be my snowy maze around 4 p.m... "Here's Johnny!"

12:14 p.m. Lunchtime! I'll call Amanda and tell her - nevermind.

2:22 p.m. I actually forgot about my phone for awhile. Then I meet with my mobile team and I'm reminded. Before the meeting, everyone looks down at their phones to look busy. I look down at my empty hands. I turn my wrist to look at my watch, except I don't have a watch on. A coworker asks what I'm doing. "I don't know," I reply.

3:00 p.m. I'm getting emotional and the tears are coming. I have a strange, estrogen-driven urge to watch Beaches or Stepmom, probably because I haven't been able to check any scores on my ESPN app. I also realize that I'm thinking a lot about movies, probably because I want to escape this cruel, isolated existence.

3:19 p.m. I think about committing a crime because I know you get to make a call from jail. I have a meeting at 3:30 p.m. though, so not enough time to work with.

3:55 p.m. I'm starting to look for targets to hunt in my cubicle maze.

3:59 p.m. A coworker gives me some chocolate. I suddenly feel better.

4:12 p.m. I get ready to head back to the train station, closer to my personal communication nirvana. I have no way to tell Amanda when I'll be home, so I'll have to deal with that wrath later.

5:18 p.m. I'm off the train. I skip to my car. I feel like 9-year-old on Christmas Eve.

5:45 p.m. I run into my house and see my glistening iPhone on the table. I embrace it. All of the colors are so bright and beautiful! I'm feeling more like myself, connected. A bird flies into the house through an open window and sits on my shoulder. Fabrizio jumps up and licks the top of its head. I hear church bells in the distance. All is right again.