Some might perceive subconscious intent from the timing.

I left my phone on the table while out to lunch. When I returned to the restaurant, it was gone. No one turned it in. The ‘Find my phone’ machine, which is Apple’s version of LoJack, hasn’t heard a peep from the little bugger since the last text I received. Either it was pilfered by someone who immediately silenced its three radios, or it’s ensconced in a signal-shrouding steel dumpster.

If history is any indication, then after tomorrow’s festivities it will be at least two weeks before a replacement is for sale. And if the lines start at 4am like before, add another few weeks until my desire for a new phone matches the trouble in obtaining one.

So I’m out of touch for awhile, which feels kind of liberating in some ways. But until I’ve secured a new digital constant companion, there won’t be any new over-filtered photos with blown-out highlights featuring everyday occurrences in these parts.

I suspect there just might possibly be other places to see such things out amongst the rest of the internets. Perhaps.