The price of forgetfulness?

So, I have this habit of losing my cell phone.  Not so much losing, really, just setting-down-in-a-safe-place-which-I-can’t-remember-5-minutes-later.

I’ve been trying really really hard for the last 2 months not to lose it, and have done fairly well, actually.  Making sure I’m wearing something with pockets seems to help.

On those occasions when I can’t seem to find it, I do the logical thing:  I pick up the house phone, and dial my cell number.  When I can hear it ring, I hang up and head for the ringing pile.  I always hang up before my voice mail picks up, and then don’t think any more about it.

Well, we got a phone bill the other day.  Mark was examining it and informed me that every time I call my phone in order to find it:  the phone company was charging us 18 cents.

So there you have it:  the price of forgetfulness is 18 cents a pop.

And the amount of grief I’ll have to endure from Mark every time I lose my phone in the future?  I don’t even want to think about it.