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And then you…

You finish the revisions (or so you hope) for PROMISES. It’s the book that pushed you toward an edge you didn’t even know you had. It’s also your editor’s favorite book. Go figure. And you’re feeling virtuous and competent. So, you make a date with your daughter to head over to the old house to do some more packing. Because something HAS to be done about the old house.anigif_enhanced-buzz-6552-1368048536-8  In the meantime, you start going through your emails. There are a lot of them in your inbox. Shouldn’t you have heard your cellphone ping?  ‘That’s odd,’ you say to yourself. You get up and look for your mobile phone.

You can’t find it. Your BlackBerry’s not on your desk. It’s not in your purse. Huh. You use the land line to give your cell a ‘where-you-at-?’ ring.

Your call goes straight to voice mail.

oh shit 2

You feel a faint twinge of alarm but you figure your new home is after all a nearly empty condo, not a 40 room mansion. There are only so many places a cellphone could hide. (But OMG. What if I’ve lost it?) You think back–did you leave it on the subway? (Nooo, not there!) But then you remember your son had tried to call you and couldn’t because (a) you were out and (b) you’d forgotten your phone AT THE CONDO. Relieved, you begin to search in earnest now. You start with the most obvious–the living room couch. It’s not there, tucked between two seat cushions (but you do find the Apple remote) or in that narrow trench between arm rest and seat (though you do find two loonies). Nor is under the sofas (2 cat toys, a sock and an uncapped pen).  Or in the kitchen (the cap to the pen, another cat toy). Or in the laundry room (stuff that needs to be put into the dryer). Or in the hallway (dustballs). Or by your bed (that paper you needed).

anigif_enhanced-buzz-3505-1368636238-9That thin thread of worry has fattened into a hairy rope of wool. How will you recover those numbers?Another search is instigated and this time you will leave no stone uncovered. You head back to your office, intent on an epic search and rescue mission. That’s where you find the evidence of WANTON UNPROVOKED DESTRUCTION. If you hadn’t been distracted, you wouldn’t have left those Sneaky Siberians alone with your brand new rug.  Tufts of 100% wool are strewn about like the intestines of a wilder-beast. You want to rage at them except they’re adept at deceit, these rat-bastard cats. They’re lolling about in their respective beds, looking all ‘who me?”

photo(3)Heartsick (the rug! the rug!) and worried (the digits! the digits!), you resume your search. Maybe you left it down by the car in the parking garage? After all, you remember unlocking the Intrigue’s trunk and then stepping back so that son and daughter could retrieve a rug. Did you bring your BlackBerry in the garage? (OMFG…did you leave it there? Where someone could run over it? Or pick up and then have access to ALL THOSE NUMBERS??)


No time for that. Even as you contemplate using your teeth to open a bottle of wine, some identity thief could be thumbing through your contacts. You’ll have to go down there to guts of the building to check. (But I’m not dressed for people!) It’s true. You’re wearing your usual togs. Crappy loose-fitting capris. A stretched out t-shirt with a grease-stain. A bra that has no business calling itself a bra. And you haven’t got a smidgen of makeup on your face, unless one counts yesterday’s mascara. You swear, colorfully and fluently because that’s something you’re very good at. You don’t want to get changed into respectable clothing. Not for the God-damn lift. But in this building, you dress for the elevator. Distressed, you resolve to do that. But you won’t make it a wasted trip. You decide to bring down the foldable thingie that you use to cart your groceries from car to elevator .

The wheelie-cart thing is in the hall. Someone (that would be you) didn’t fold it up after the last grocery haul. Mind still twirling around  the utter-hell-of-life-without-a-cell, you do the unthinkable. You put the cart (the one you drag through the tarry depths of your parking garage) on your brand spanking new ICE BLUE comforter. And because Karma hates you, the cart thingie has left two long streaks of black oil smack dab in the middle of the bed.


The Sneaky Siberian watches you carefully, trying to establish whether this melt down will interfere with the timely presentation of his next meal.

Les Meouws June 2013_446DSC_0413 (1)

You use a stain remover on it. Most of it comes out. But there will always be this little stain in the centre of its icy blueness. And now, to be crass, its cherry has been popped. Then you pick up your purse–which should have your cellphone but doesn’t. And you notice that it’s surprisingly heavy–for a purse that doesn’t have a cell phone in it.  That’s when you remember that it has this side pocket that you never, ever use.

And that’s where you find it.  Your BlackBerry is there.

Life is good again.  You sit in your office chair, feeling benevolent. Such a fuss over nothing. The phone was found. A comforter never stays pristine. And the rug? It will eventually heal.

photo(1)(As long as the sneaky rat-bastard cats leave it alone.)

Smiling ruefully, you head for the phone’s charger. You plug it in, then place it on your bedside table.  Your brand new bedside table. The one with that has suddenly and mysteriously developed a deep DING. (See scratch to the right of phone)


Where’d it get that ding?

oh shit







  • Mickie
    Posted June 25, 2013 at 9:26 am | Permalink

    I grinned a lot reading this. Then I read it again and grinned more. I have had those cascading moments. I HATE losing things.

    • Leigh Evans
      Posted June 25, 2013 at 9:37 am | Permalink

      Me too!

  • Posted June 25, 2013 at 10:20 am | Permalink

    You are living my life. In a condo, but still. And it’s dogs at my house, not cats. And the rug is old, because I haven’t yet bought that EXACT SAME RUG for my office, though it is in the virtual shopping cart. Still, pretty much the same.

    • Leigh Evans
      Posted June 25, 2013 at 10:21 am | Permalink

      I love this rug. So do the rat-bastard cats. And I wish I had dogs, but..there are the rat-bastard cats…

      • Posted June 25, 2013 at 10:39 am | Permalink

        Dogs do rat-bastard things also. Bailey just puked by the back door, since he thought it was an excellent idea to drink the pool. Magus regularly just poops right where he’s lying down, since he figures it’s too much effort to get up. Data guards the laundry room like it’s Fort Knox, because the food bins are in there. And yet not one of these dogs raised so much as a one bark alarm when the four vultures were descending on the house yesterday.

  • Robin
    Posted June 25, 2013 at 11:13 am | Permalink

    True, cats can be rat-bastards. I was knee deep in the process of searching for the right puppy to bring home and add to my family of rat-bastard cats. However, I dog-sat a French bulldog pup for the past two weekends.

    I have suspended the search. Indefinitely. My eye is still twitching.

  • Monica Barnett
    Posted August 20, 2013 at 4:00 pm | Permalink

    Ohhh, the way you wrote that is so delicious and laughed all the way through! Not laughing at you, but certainly identifying with you! My previous phone had inexplicably “lost” every single contact, I may as well have misplaced the phone! I was devastated to say the least and not ashamed to admit I wept intermittently as I tried to manually replace each one to the best of my memory. (We won’t mention how THAT is!) Of course, now I’ve learned my lesson and regularly back-up my contacts and info, not only into that lofty place known as the “Cloud”, but also onto my dinosaur of a desktop. The desktop also backs-up regularly into an external hard drive. Better to have something tangible, true?
    We have one 9 year old rat-bastard kitty named Tigger. We’ve had him since he was abandoned as a baby on my vet’s doorstep. My Hubby will be so excited when I tell him that Tigger isn’t unique in his deviltry.. I guess rugs and carpets are just too attractive to the feline eye. Several years ago, we were living in another home and decided we would have new carpet installed. So silly of us to even think about doing this, really. The little rat-bastard was truly overjoyed to find that new carpet had been installed for his destructive amusement. His expression seemed to say, “Oh Mom, you shouldn’t have! Thank you so much!”.

    • Leigh Evans
      Posted August 20, 2013 at 4:02 pm | Permalink

      Oh Monica. How well I know that look:-)

  • Monica Barnett
    Posted August 20, 2013 at 4:08 pm | Permalink

    P.S. Love your choices of gifs! Perfect!

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