And now for a story:
Once a upon a yesterday morning at 4am, I woke up for work. I had everything laid out so that when I actually woke up at 4:15 or even 4:30, I'd still be out the door in time. This included putting my phone on top of my purse (and not plugged in in the bedroom).
When I arrived at the Delaware Women's Conference, I remembered that my colleague was directionally challenged, and figured she'd be calling me any second asking for help. I fumbled through my purse, and much to my surprise: no phone! I wrote it off as being too tired to remember my phone in the morning (though I could have SWORN I left it on my purse), and hoped Tiffany would find her way (she did, and was surprised to see me because she figured I was sleeping through her phone calls and the conference).
At home, I looked for my phone in the usual places: where I normally put my purse, where I charge my phone, on my dresser; and all of the unusual places: my hamper, Steve's hamper, the trash can (maybe I was more tired than I thought!). No phone. I really looked everywhere. Maybe I left it at the cafe I was in last night? No, I used it after that. So I just had to wait for Steve to get home so that he could call it and I would be able to follow the ring to a place that was so obvious I would have to kick myself.
While I waited, I busied myself by organizing the sunroom, a part of the house that has never quite been fully unpacked. I ended up with some trash, so I decided to take it out to the bin through the back door. Laying in between the back door and its corresponding screen door was my precious cellular telephone!
Then I started thinking about all the ways it could have ended up there, since I was positive I didn't open that door at all that morning. Maybe I dropped in the driveway, a neighbor found it, and decided to put it there. But why there? Why not the mailbox? Maybe it was raining a little, and since our mailbox is certainly not safe from precipitation, they were just finding a place to keep it dry. But still, what an odd place!
When Steve (finally) got home, I asked him if he knew what had happened. As it turns out, late Friday night, Dan needed to make a phone call, so he picked up my phone, thinking it was his, and did so. Then he and my phone left the house through the back door, locking it behind him. When he realized the phone wasn't his, he brought it back, but having just moved in that day, he didn't have his own key, and was locked out. He then used his phone to call Steve (who was sleeping/ignoring his phone) and tell him what happened and where my phone was.
So that's it then, right? Sure, but:
1. How could Dan think it was his phone when the background is a picture of me and Steve?
2. If Dan used his own phone to call Steve about my phone, why didn't he use his phone to make the phone call he made on mine?
I checked the call history, and Dan called his own phone with mine. Maybe he was locating it, but who walks out the door with two phones???
What. A. Day.