Have you ever had days when you feel your brain is on fast-forward?  As I was driving towards Mr. T’s house I was reviewing what I had to do that day: answer wedding e-mails, call my florist, finish my Master’s application, get passport pictures, call the immigration attorney, sweep the downstairs, pick up the new puppy at the airport, make dinner for friends who were coming over to meet said puppy, finish doing laundry, take Morena for a walk, make my mom’s website, decide what I was taking to San Francisco… The list seemed endless.

My cell phone rang as I was pulling into the parking lot.  I looked at the caller ID to make sure it wasn’t some foaming-at-the-mouth bride, and when I saw it was Mr. T I happily answered.

“Hey honey bunny, I need you to do me a favor,” he said after we had greeted each other.  “I’m about to go into a meeting, but could you call the vet and arrange a ‘new puppy’ appointment for Checkers?”

“Yeah, sure… Just hold on a second,” I answered, holding the cell phone to my ear with my shoulder and rummaging through my purse.   “Damn it,” I exclaimed, growing more and more frustrated with my ineffective search.

“What’s wrong?” Mr. T asked.

“Nothing… Stupid purse, full of crap.”  I unzipped the purse all the way, rolled up my sleeves, and dove in full force.  I pulled out my wallet, PDA, Kleenex, a bunch of receipts, a hairbrush, two sets of keys, a digital camera, three checkbooks, five pens, my passport, an iPod, a box of Altoids and a bottle of water, but I still couldn’t find what I was looking for.  “You know, I really need to clean out my purse.  I can never find anything in there!”

“What are you looking for?” he asked.

“My cell phone,” I exclaimed.  “I can’t find my cell phone!”

Mr. T snorted.  Then he started to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”  He was laughing and couldn’t answer.  “What’s. So. Funny.” I demanded.

“Check your ear.”

“What’s wrong with my… Oh, fuck.”