As we get older, we seem to have issues with forgetting things and losing things and other little bumps in the road. Sometimes, I think it has to do with having too much going on and other times, it has to do with age. Honestly, I don’t want to think that it has anything to do with getting older, but I guess I would just be lying to myself.

 

The other day, I was out in the field having the best time in my little garden. Doing a little tilling, a little planting and taking my headphones off every once in a while to crack a joke to my buddy who has a large garden plot right by mine. We are fortunate to have nice garden plots for a very reasonable price right at work.

 

Some of my co-workers ask me if I get tired of spending so much time at work – both doing real work and pretending to be a farmer. I honestly enjoy it. I come in early to check on my plants and water, then I stay late to go shoot the breeze with fellow gardeners and pretend to hoe weeds or something else meaningful.

 

On this day, I was putting tools back in the shed, listening to some old-time country music on my headphones, being sent from my cell phone. I don’t answer my cell phone, but I have found it to be a very capable source of my favorite forms of country music. I can stream in radio stations, stored music and drown out the sounds of overhead jets and helicopters.

 

As I was walking back from the shed, I stuck my hand in my back pocket to check my cell phone and it was not there. Listening to music on my headphones, being sent from the cell phone, I knew it was somewhere relatively close by. So, I started looking, hoping to find it before it got dark or a fellow gardener ran over it driving out to check on their garden plot.

 

I paced back and forth everywhere I had been working or walking. I probably looked for an hour and was getting that sick feeling that I wouldn’t find it. But, my country music kept playing. Having my car parked right by my plot, I started looking everywhere in my car. Under the seats, under junk, opening every door and seeing if it was there. It was not.

 

Being more of a math guy, than a gardening guy, I started walking away from my plot. I counted my steps and kept count until my headphones started “cracking” or losing the signal from my phone. I walked back in toward my plot, and then started walking in a different direction, again counting my steps and waiting for the sounds of Johnny Cash or Hank Williams Sr. to start cracking out on me.

After doing this a few times, I started honing in on a pretty specific location where my phone “should” have been. Now, I was feeling less like an old guy who was losing his mind and more like a treasure hunter or a fellow who is supposed to do math for a living.

 

I was doing my calculations on a napkin, they were all sending me right back to my car or within a few feet. I had literally torn the car apart looking for my phone. I opened the driver’s side door one more time and noticed my phone in the slot where the handle is you use to close the door once inside. The phone and its case was pretty much the same blackish color of the door, so it was hiding like a chameleon there on the inside of the door.

 

Honestly, I felt more important or successful, that I did stupid for forgetting where I had left my phone. I guess I was using triangulation of sorts to find my phone. I think I was just using a little logic.

 

So many people to risk their lives or money to feel important – I just need to lose my phone (and find it).

 

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