By Jim Hagarty
2017
I got up this morning and dressed myself as I am, happily, still able to do. Then reached for the bedside table for my iPhone. It was missing. Rats. So I went upstairs and grabbed one of our cordless phones and dialed my iPhone. I immediately heard it ring. Somewhere, pretty loudly, but I couldn’t tell where. I raced back down to the bedroom. Loud ringing, but no phone. Out to the hallway, laundry, bathroom. Same thing. Lots of sound but no jackpot. I dialled the number again and wandered upstairs. The sound was loud up there, maybe even louder. In the kitchen, in the living room. I searched the couches. Nothing. I went out into the garage and dialled again. Riiinnnggg! Loud as hell. But a careful search produced no phone. More dialling. Back downstairs. In the bedroom once more. Down on my knees looking under the bed. Riiinnnggg!!! Very loud now. And as it rang, I felt a vibration in the back pocket of my jeans. I sometimes forget my name too but fortunately, it is sown onto the front insides of my underwear waistband and so I check there and sure enough, I am reminded of who I am: Harvey Woods.
