Mobiles, the 1980s, and ships in the night.

That's it, David needs a mobile phone. I've had a pay-as-you-go UK mobile for years now because of my tours, but we've had to wait to get David one until we sorted out the internet situation (the Queen has finally given her approval, now we must wait for her minions to flip the switch ... a week from tomorrow). After last night's leave-a-note-at-the-flat-on-your-whereabouts debacle, where David and I missed each other several times over and walked miles chasing each other's shadows, I've decided I never want to be mobile-less again.

How frustrating it must have been fifteen years ago when we were forced to think ahead, make plans, tell each other where we were going, and stick to those plans! I remember calling my voicemail in college to change my outgoing message to, "Hi you've reached Brigid, I've gone to the library until 10, then to Veselka for pancakes until 11, then I'll be back. If this is Garrett, meet me for pancakes, and if this is Mom, call me after noon. The rest of you, please leave a message." I can't even remember what life the 1980s was like.

I know camping and nature and blue skies and mountains are glorious and all, but, truthfully, so is my mobile phone. Even if it's a horridly out-of-date pink Razr.

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