As you know, I lost my phone last November.
I think I forgot to tell you that I found it.
About a week after Mama bought a new one and gave me her old one, six weeks after I lost mine, I found the lost one. Remember that I had the horrible stomach flu over Christmas? Well, one of those days in bed, I dropped my "new" phone (Mama's old) by the side of the bed and reached for it, pulling it up. But it wouldn't turn on. It was then I realized it was my old phone in my purple case--it wouldn't come on because it hadn't been charged for a month and a half!!! Of course, I was thrilled because it meant I had all my old pictures. I don't know how we missed it, right there beside the bed and nightstand where we'd looked. We even changed the bed several times. But I think it was camouflaged in the corner of the bedframe, blending in with the bit at the corner, which we didn't notice in the shady light. I think I forgot to mention it because I was sick.
But I kept using my "new" phone since it was all set up. Until last week, when it fell out of my sweater pocket onto the tile floor and shattered the screen. It still worked but the screen was flaking. So, Mama switched out the card with my "old" one, which I used.
Until an hour ago, when I dropped it getting out of the car in the rain at a hospice meeting. The screen shattered like the other phone, but it wouldn't even turn on.
All of which means I guess I'm getting a new "new" phone.
Maybe I shouldn't be trusted with one.
Though, in my defense, I'd say that in twelve years of phone ownership, these are the first two phones I've broken, but two in a week is as lot.