I never meant for this to happen..

Phone : MIA.

I start my day by blaring slightly offensive punk music throughout the apartment and sculling down two large mugs of hot chocolate like they are the last thing I will drink for days. Pulling on a navy striped tank top and a pair of black shorts, I hurriedly grab my boots, brown bag, jewellery and my favourite denim jacket. I reluctantly turn off my 'nocturnal animal music', as the neighbours call it, and lock the door behind me.

I take a look to make sure the coast is clear, it is, and start to march down the stairs in my fluorescent orange socks. Doing my necklace up as well as struggling to get my phone out of my bag and untangle my earphones at the same time proves to be highly challenging. Balancing my phone in the crook of my neck while trying to sort out the knot in my earphones was not the best idea and it falls from it's perch and topples straight down the flight of stairs and into the open lift. I sigh and begin to pace towards it. Ugh, I bet the screen is cracked. I am three stairs from it when the door of the lift begin to close and I lose my footing, fall down the stairs and manage to fling all of my belongings everywhere. Crap! Are you serious?

I pick myself up from the musty carpet floor and quickly lace up my boots, tug my jacket on and stuff my unnecessary junk back into my bag, which is tangled around my neck with my earphones. I run down the stairs as fast as my legs will take me and zoom around the corner to the lift's closed doors. I pound the the button, bringing the lift (and hopefully my phone) to me and wait impatiently, tapping my foot. I'm going to be late for work at this rate. The lift dings and the doors open to reveal a very phone and person free lift. I groan and slide down the wall behind me, my head in my hands.

What am I gonna do? Where is it? All of my music is on my phone! And my contacts! And my photos!

I end up forgetting about going to look for it and drag myself over to the record store I work at. Explaining my late-ness to my less-than-understanding boss is excruciatingly painful. He grumbles that I'm always late and that losing my phone is no excuse to turn up an hour and a half after my shift has started. I sigh and apologise, like I always do when he yells at me and quietly shuffle over to the corner of the store where I start to sort the records when he has finished raging.

Where the heck is my phone?