If this story had been a TV show, you would have changed the channel by now: The end of my cell phone story

Searching...searching...searching...

For who I really am...for the Lost City of Atlantis...Big Foot/Lochness/Abominable Snow Monster/Proof of Alien Existence...

Searching...searching...searching...

For answers. What IS life all about?

Searching...searching...searching...

My new (re-furbished) phone was forever searching. Clutching her antiquated phone, Sydney smiled and stuck another pin in her voodoo doll. A Google search revealed the top 18 things that could be wrong with your new (re-furbished) Pomegranate 4000. Using small squares of aluminum foil (gum wrappers are now an environmentally-friendly paper-type material), some D-batteries, and a fish hook, we carefully followed the simple instructions constructed by NASA scientists to re-set the device. It worked! I spent the next twenty minutes happily sending Savannah poignant emojis. Savannah spent the same twenty minutes unhappily receiving my emojis. "I sent you the carrot because when you were in pre-school (for one hour a week to socialize you because we thought you were shy when in fact you were deaf), you ALWAYS ate your carrots. Remember how they bragged about you!?! I think you even received an award!" "Yeah...I remember, Mom."

Twenty minutes later...I was again searching. Savannah, of course, was devastated when her constant flow of relevant emojis was cruelly interrupted. Sydney wandered into the room as her father and I again consulted the list of the top 18 things that could be wrong with your new (re-furbished) Pomegranate 4000. "I see that Savannah's order from e-bay must have arrived," she smiled. "How could you possibly know that when you're here and Savannah's in San Diego?" I asked, gathering the materials necessary for step seven on the list. "Oh...just a guess," Sydney said, jabbing her voodoo doll with renewed vigor. "She's starting to develop a muscle," Brad noticed with admiration, "Maybe I need to get one of those." Once we'd secured the eye of newt and clipped our dachshund's toenails, we were ready to begin the incantation ritual. It worked!

I sent Savannah a fresh round of emojis; delighted that I found a meaningful pufferfish. I took a brief break while we walked the dogs. Well...Brad walked the dogs. Sydney stabbed her voodoo doll (for rehabilitation therapy and relief from emotional distress) and I Face-timed Savannah. I showed her how the highway department had re-dirted our road. It was like she was right there with us! "Why do you keep looking in your lap, Savannah?" I asked, suddenly catching a glimpse of a sharp, shiny object in her hand. "Are you sewing something?" "Kind of," she answered.

Twenty minutes later...I was again searching.

"I think you might require professional help," Brad gently suggested as I wailed in the middle of my re-dirted road. "You mean I need to go back to the Horizon store AGAIN?"? I asked. "Sure...that too," Brad shrugged.

It was to be the 5th of 6th total Horizon visits in two days. I cannot say ENOUGH good things about Horizon. They were patient, kind, and courteous. Professional and competent. The Pomegranate store, however, lest you forget, was the WORST. Demeaning. Smug. Arrogant. My Horizon guy asked if we'd re-set the device. Check. "Did you remember to use a tri-pronged fish hook?" he asked. Yup. What about the incantation? Was it uttered over a just-bloomed dahlia three minutes before midnight? Yessiree-bobby! "Well, the first thing I'm going to do is re-set the sim card," he told us quietly. I blushed. Brad held my hand during the procedure. It worked!

Twenty minutes later, I was searching for the instructions on how to return my new (re-furbished) Pomegranate 4000. Our final trip to the Horizon store was to get Old Trusty, my antiquated grandma phone up and running again. "This is going to be fine for awhile," my Horizon guy said gently, "but unfortunately, cell phone devices, such as yours, that cannot pick up gamma rays weighing more than three grams will no longer be able to pick up our signal." Sydney, Horizon guy, and I all sat there, stunned as this news sunk in. He subtly signaled the in-house Horizon therapist as Sydney and I broke out into hysterical laughter. "Where do we go from here?" I howled, "Walkie-talkies?"

"Well...how did it go?" Brad asked later. "Stick a fork in me...I'm done!" I declared as Sydney discreetly got rid of her voodoo doll. "Don't worry, we will get you a phone," Brad assured me.

I'll be waiting on pins and needles.