24 Hours of Spills

I have survived two major spills in the last 24 hours.

They were merely liquid spills, but dramatic all the same.

Here it goes.

Spill #1
Spill #1 occurred yesterday at approximately 4:00pm, in Columbus, Ohio.  I was sitting with my dear friend Kim, who was in town from Israel, and whom I hadn't seen in years.  In the midst of our catch up conversation on her parent's back porch, I heard the distant sound of my phone ringing. My instinct was to ignore it - I was engrossed in conversation, and the phone could wait.  But then I realized - hmmmm, does that ring sound a bit weird?  A bit muffled?  A bit broken-recordish?

I excused myself and reached into my purse to feel a puddle.  And floating in said puddle was none other than my I-phone.  Apparently, my water bottle had leaked and turned my purse into a cesspool of I-phone, goldfish crackers, and spare change.

I tried to call my husband.  It went through, but I couldn't hear a thing.  This is not the first time this has happened (yeah, I know, I have a problem), so I resigned myself to just be phone-less for a day until I could hit up the Apple Store this afternoon.

But then my phone started FREAKING THE EFF OUT.

It started talking to me.  Some kind of voice recognition software I didn't even know existed.  And then it started calling people.  AND I COULDN'T STOP IT.  It called my aunt.  My father's cousin. My friend from high school who I haven't spoken to in a decade and I have no idea why her number is still in my phone.  My mother.  My psychiatrist.  My friend from London.  Our babysitter who is vacationing in the Outer Banks, whom my phone decided to call multiple times, just for shits and giggles.   I would try to turn it off, and then it would simultaneously turn back on and laugh a sinister laugh and then call some more people.  Why didn't you take out the battery, you say? Because I didn't have the miniature screw driver necessary to remove a battery from an I-phone. My bad.

Do you have any idea the level of anxiety?

It did eventually stop for a while.  And then resumed around 9:00pm.  And then this morning it is all back to normal, and saying, "I have no idea what you are talking about.  I did nothing of which you speak."  

So if you happened to have received a call from me yesterday, sorry 'bout that.

Spill #2
I flew back to DC this morning and was all ready to blog about Spill #1.  But the blogging had to wait until after I attended a lunch at Rasika, which was sponsored by The Century Council, an organization that is devoted to fighting drunk driving and underage drinking.  Debbie Phelps (yup, Michael Phelps' mom) was there as the honored guest.  (More on this lunch in the next week or so).  I was really looking forward to this event, not only because it was at one of my favorite restaurants and was in furtherance of such a great cause, but also because I had just finished Debbie Phelps' memoir and I really wanted to hug her.

I was one of the last to arrive and was relegated to one of the crappier seats (aka, the very end of a long table), but it was all good, I would just need to lean forward a bit and extend my head so as to be part of the conversation.  So I did, and at one point, I leaned just a bit further because I was about to make a really smart witty groundbreaking comment, and then there it came.

Spill #2.

My recently refilled diet coke tipped over ever so gracefully and poured itself like a waterfall into my lap.  The soda dripped through my sundress onto my calves, while the ice sat comfortably in the crevice between my thighs.

Perfect.  Just perfect.

I tried to play it down.  Oh no, I'm fine!  No, I don't need any more napkins.  No, you don't all have to pass your napkins down the table to me in relay form.  No, really.  Well, okay, I could use another napkin.  Or two.  Oh yes, here comes the waiter, with more napkins.  Thank you!  Oh sir, please, don't worry about cleaning the diet coke off of my shoes or my dress or the INSIDE OF MY ONLY RECENTLY DRIED OUT PURSE.  But, you know what I could use?  Another drink.  With alcohol.  OH NO - WAIT!   That's all kinds of inappropriate.  Though slightly ironic.  Water.  Just water.  And maybe one more napkin.

My phone is as of now still functional, just sticky.  As is my purse.  And my dress.  And my ankles.

I'm done for the day, thank you very much.