One week unemployed, a lot of unanswered questions and a surprising amount to do: I've just come back from a four mile walk and I'm feeling pretty good.
The dog is dancing to go out when I come through the door and I slip him into his harness and grab my phone and head out. I'm feeling thankful as I close the door behind me; I've just walked four miles and I have the energy to go right back out with the dog. I'm not short of breath. My heart isn't racing. I'm sure you're all sick of hearing about it, but it wasn't all that long ago that I thought it would never be possible again.
Smiling, I shift my phone to the hand with the leash so I can lock the door. The dog yanks. My phone flies out of my hand and lands face down on the concrete, shattering.
Who knew Yorkies were so tough?
Okay. Deep breath. I'm pretty sure I have insurance. I try to dial customer care and the call goes through, but apparently they can't hear me. All I get for my troubles is an index finger full of tiny glass slivers. When the call disconnects, "No Service" pops up and stays.
Have I mentioned that Tori is on a field trip out of town? Or that they didn't know what time they'd be home and I was waiting for a call to pick her up? Or that we don't have a land line at this new place?
So I'm a little rattled and the dog doesn't get the nice long walk he was hoping for, but I'm still feeling pretty good. I've decided to run to Wal-Mart and pick up a TracFone. Not only have I come up with a solution in just a few minutes, but it's come with another "things could definitely be worse" moment--even though I'm unemployed, I didn't have to stop and think about whether I could afford a TracFone.
My luck held, too. I got my new phone purchased and activated just minutes before Wal-Mart caught on fire, and was already on my way to the door when they started to evacuate.
