My alarm went off this morning and I woke up in a confused panic, grabbing for it, thinking What? WHY. What time is it? What day is it?! Where am I!?, which is actually unusual for me. Usually the alarm goes off and I’m like Well crap, and then I shut the alarm off, sit up, and check to see if Trump has blown up the world with Twitter yet. It’s very calm and resigned, in general.
After I pried myself out of bed and got through the morning routine, I went to fetch my phone and other junk to head downstairs, and dropped my phone. It landed, screen down, bang in the middle, on the brass corner of a storage box I keep by the bed.
I heard the distinct little kkrsht of a screen breaking and swore. “What’s wrong?” said Jim. “Broke the screen,” I announced and picked the phone up to confirm it. I flipped the phone over, but I could already feel the cracked glass, tiny chips sprinkling my fingers. I swore some more and futzed with the phone to see if the screen still worked at all.
It did not.
See, this is tricky, because I lock my phone, like you’re supposed to do when all the most important information in your whole life is a screen tap away. Which meant that many of the little tricks you can try to keep using a touchscreen phone with a broken screen were out of my reach. Further, I have 2-factor authorization turned on basically everywhere, and my confirmation device is my phone. Which I could not access.
Fortunately I was still logged in everywhere on my home laptop, so I was able to turn all that off before I grumped in to work. That was a lucky stroke because I usually shut the computer down Sunday night so it can run whatever updates it wants to run.
I got to work and spent entirely longer than I wanted to buying a new phone because the financing option I picked needed me to text to confirm, which is like, guys. I am buying a new phone because the old phone is busted. How am I supposed to text to confirm.
Just as I got that sorted out, my tummy started rumbling ominously, because apparently this day hadn’t sucked enough yet. Sure enough, it appears I ate something that didn’t agree with me, and I ended up going home early.
Which is fine, frankly, because clearly this particular Monday is out to get me, so hiding at home where I’m relatively safe is probably a good plan. Let’s cross our fingers and hope Tuesday’s in a better mood, y’all.