This is going to sound rather pathetic, but I unintentionally forgot my phone at home Wednesday morning and felt completely beside myself.

I have a bit of a system each day that includes sharing a “good morning” text or two with my boyfriend then slipping my phone into my purse before I leave. As I make it to the office and to my desk, I’ll exchange my keys for my phone and place it onto my desk just left of my mouse pad. (OCD, anyone?) To my unfortunate surprise, there was no phone to be had when I threw my keys into my purse and fished around for it.

I frantically checked through my second bag hoping that just maybe I slipped it in there instead. Nothing. I ran out to my car and checked the center console and under my seats. Nothing.

So I took to my Facebook and updated my status to, “Jana Hoffman forgot her phone at home. Ugh.” You know, just in case the masses needed to get a hold of me and were wondering why I wasn’t responding to their phone calls and text messages.

Part of me didn’t want to care that I left it at home. I should have enjoyed my moment detached from society. But, no, I started feeling anxious–like what if someone really important tried to contact me. It is amazing to me the amount of reliance we place on certain technologies. Sadly, but truthfully, I don’t even know my boyfriend’s cell phone number by heart simply because all I need to do is tap his name on my screen and it dials automatically.

At 10:15 a.m. I was able to reach my sister at home (because I don’t remember her cell phone number by heart, either) and pleaded that she drive to the Wendy’s in Hellertown to meet me with my phone. She–seeming quite reluctant–agreed and by 10:50 I had my phone back safe and sound in my little hands. Two text messages, one missed call, and a voicemail were waiting for my response.