A Cold Day in Cell Hell

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Welcome to Hell. I’m your hostess, Marti. Would you like smoking or burning?  Gawd almighty, give me strength to deal with kids and corporations. Every month since we have had our cell phones, the bill has been wrong. EVERY month. Granted, we’ve thrown them a few curves, changing plans, adding phones, and adding minutes. They are supposed to be equipped to handle this sort of thing. I am not asking them to invent the five-cent matter transfer machine. Middle Son went out last evening. He was ill earlier in the week with a stomach virus, which he lovingly shared with everyone. Daughter was home sick yesterday and we were both v-e-r-y glad this house has two bathrooms. But the boy, he was all better. And ready to par-tay. So off he went, dancing into the night. He returned while we were watching “Lost,” which loyal viewers know is a program that requires a certain amount of attention to follow.

He looked sad. Sad and upset. I said, “What’s wrong?”

He said, “Something bad happened.”

I said, (with great trepidation) “What?”

He glances at TV, searching for an excuse to stall, and said, “I’ll tell you when your show is over.” So now I am thinking, “Oh God, what is so terrible that it is making him be considerate?”

I say, “I can tape the show, (as I hit the record button) tell us what is going on.”

His father says, “What’s going on?”

Son says, “Somebody stole my cell phone.”

We say, “How did that happen?”

He says, “I went to play Dance, Dance Revolution and I left my phone in the car, ‘cause it bounces out of my pocket when I dance.”

“Did you lock the car?”

“I thought I did.” (That means “no” in Boy/Man Speak.)

He continues, saying that the security guard had seen a suspicious character in the parking lot, in the vicinity of my car, who ran away when he approached. Suspicious person was carrying something in each hand.

The plot thickens.

“So what else was stolen?” “I dunno. The radio is still there, and my CD’s are still under the old paper, like you told me.” (Note…Son used to keep stack of CD’s in cubbyhole in console. I suggested he toss an old Thrifty Nickel newspaper over them so they were less obvious. Score one for Mom.) Son claims he doesn’t know what the other stolen item was. We tell him to call cell phone company, report theft, and turn off service he does. So this morning it is freezing. I’d become accustomed to our unseasonably warm weather, and going out when it is 14 degrees, and I’m coming down off of a Pepto-Bismol buzz, was miserable. The car was covered with thick frost. Then I found out what the second thing was the ice scraper. A puny little 99-cent ice scraper. Why would a (many foul and obscene words) thief steal it? I don’t know. So I was reduced to scraping it off with my fingernails, as I could locate no suitable implement that wouldn’t scratch the glass, yet would remove the thick coating. I’m still waiting for my hands to get warm, but hoping that since hell HAS frozen over…that when the boy gets his replacement phone in the mail, and we have to re-start his service, perhaps this glitch will somehow magically correct all of the billing errors the cell phone company makes, and all will be well with the world.

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