At The End of All Things

Today I will conclude my.... seven?... part series of things that are out to get me. Just think of it as the Harry Potter Series, only a heck of a lot shorter and without Fred and George. (I could go on to complain about certain unfortunate circumstances that occur in the final novel of said series, but I won't) The final item on my ever-growing lists of forces, institutions and objects out to get me is simply called a cell phone.

At the young, impressionable age of 14, I was given my first cell phone. It was small, black and had rather catchy ring tones. I loved that phone. And boy if I wasn't so darn proud of it. It was mere months later when the first in a trilogy of unfortunate events occurred...

One day I was working on a rather annoying math problem at the kitchen table, somewhat preoccupied with wondering where my phone was. X's and polynomials seemed completely insignificant compared to the mystery of the missing phone. On top of that all, I had a pounding headache which was not helped at all by the thumping of the washing machine, which was busy cleaning our clothes in a room right off of the kitchen. I scribbled down an answer (I imagine it was wrong) and carried on with my current frustration.

Approximately ten minutes after I had rubbed my sore temples for the third time, I heard my mom shuffle into the laundry room. She opened the lid, made a terribly inconvenienced sigh and shouted so loudly it's a wonder the neighbors didn't hear: "OH CRAP." It was in this moment that I laid my head down on the table, the cogs meshing in my mind. I knew what the answer would be as soon as I opened my lips, but had to moan out the question anyway... "What?" "YOUR PHONE WENT THROUGH THE WASHING MACHINE." 

Long story short, after much lecturing ("Why didn't you TELL ME it was missing?!" she exclaimed. "You'd be mad at me!" I replied ironically.) I was taken to Wal-Mart where she purchased a new, ugly, cheap phone for my personal use. After a while, we were eligible for a free upgrade so I got a phone that was the same model as my first.

I suppose from here I could draw out the tale of how a few years later I killed 2 phones in 2 days... the second of which flew out of my pocket on a rollercoaster, when I had been under the false impression I had left it off of the ride. My mom, (now having recovered from the shock of realizing she produced a daughter who kills expensive electronics) jokes that my phones committed suicide, especially the last one. Said the roller coaster was too much for it to handle. Yeah Mom, ha ha. 

I'm not really sure how to conclude this series, other than perhaps by saying I suppose I'm just another victim of Murphy and his laws. Thank you for following this cynical (yet hopefully amusing) blog. *bows*