This, my friends, oh lovers of the Patch, is going to be an embarrassing admission. With that little teaser, settle info for a little Winter story that all started with a dead cell phone.
<Cue memory sequence>
<Cue fog machine> (C’mon, let me have little fog.)
A few hours ago (I didn’t say it was a distant memory), while at the DJ (day job if you’re new here), I glanced over at my cell phone, a fine, fine Apple product, and watched it kind of flicker, then turn off. For good. Like, no onny. Just offy. Um.
So, like any good spouse, I use the office phone (it was toll free, I swear!) to call my significant other to let him know that my cell was dead and I would be home at THIS approximate time. I got his voicemail. I covered all the covering my ass bases and left a message at the house too. There. He’d know my approximate time of arrival and would know my route, should say, a tornado decide to descend upon southern New Hampshire during my evening commute and I didn’t make it home 42 minutes from that message.
I commenced my commute. 42 minutes later, no more no less, I pull into the driveway. No hubby. Shoes off (house freshly cleaned, this floor has to last 2 weeks!), coat off, mauled by the dog, post-commute-pee, contacts out, jammies on. No hubby.
I make my way to the kitchen phone and here is where I must share a bit of irony. It was dead. Not charged. I found the phone from our spare bedroom sitting right next to it on the counter. Also no worky. The ironic part is, we JUST had a conversation about getting rid of the landlines. WHO NEEDS ‘EM? Yeah, apparently I do right about now, dammit. I popped them both on their respective chargers and started searching the internet from the laptop for reasons why my cell was dead. Hooray, I figured it out and got that baby working again.
Clock ticks. Charge ‘er up while I hunt for grub. Fridge, freezer, pantry, cabinet, back to freezer. I went deep. Real deep. Black hole deep. Here’s what I found.
This, in case it isn’t recognizable, is frozen, shredded zucchini. You know, for bread or something. Here is the problem with that. We didn’t grow zucchini last year.
Or the year before.
Yeah. I left another message for hubby. Here’s a idea, “Hi. It’s me. I’m home. Haven’t heard from you, but my cell died. And the house phones died. Things are charging back up, but I can’t be on the phone long. So, there is nothing for dinner unless you want salad and hard boiled eggs or soup from the other night. Oh, I had it for lunch and you probably did too. Oh, and I had it for dinner last night and lunch yesterday too. Ok, eggs it is. Bye.”
I’ll be cleaning the freezer this weekend.
In shame. Because you know about my hoarding tendencies.
