Well, I'm sure the last stage has got to be forgiveness. Someday I will forgive myself for this.
Not never, but rarely do I forget my cell phone. Especially when I go to a gig. Stuck downtown for hours on end, I get bored between sets and find it a lovely distraction to check in with my peeps. Last night, I remember picking up my cell phone, but with no pockets in my dress, I accidentally set it down instead of putting it in my purse.
Driving to the gig, I realized the phone wasn't with me, but I decided it might be a nice test of strength to go phone-less. I had a novel with me. Rather than taking a 2-minute trip back to the apartment, I drove on. We proceeded to have one of those musical experiences that is akin to great sex.
I got home around 1:45am. My phone was sitting on the coffee table, and there were a few messages. Five, in fact. The boyfriend, calling to check in. Christine, letting me know she had a 45-minute layover in a Chicago airport. Christine, saying the layover was now over an hour. Christine, reporting her next flight as cancelled, forcing her to stay the night in Chicago. Christine, calling from the hotel room in Elk Grove, about to retire for the night. Shit. Shit.
Hoping to not disturb her, but halfway hoping she would pick up, I dialed. Christine answered. We talked. What can you say at that point?
This morning I met with the morning crew outside work. KJ likened it to missing your alarm in the morning. What can you do? The moment has passed.
Did I forget to mention that Chris also left a message this morning? Her rescheduled flight today got delayed. Hmpf
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