Yesterday evening, I made the mistake of leaving my mobile on the floor for a fraction of a second. At least that’s what I assume I did. When I went to check it before turning in for the night, I found it on the sofa with the Bluetooth light flashing. My first thought was, 'Excellent! So finally the Bluetooth is working! I can copy my pics of Babe to my laptop.' (I had spent hours recently, trying to turn the Bluetooth facility on, and failing.) This thought was closely followed by another: 'Hang on, who exactly has got it working?' (Other Half is not a techno-whizz - well, actually that's the understatement of the decade, but suffice to say, I knew he wasn't involved.) Closer inspection of the screen also revealed a 'signal disabled' message. My powers of deduction led me to Babe... But how on earth had he succeeded where I had failed, and how the hell had he stopped the phone working in the meantime?
I spent a good fifteen minutes scrolling through the Bluetooth facility, trying to turn it off, and getting increasingly incensed. Meanwhile, I realised that the phone must have stopped receiving calls and messages at least three hours earlier, and I’d been expecting a couple of friends to be in contact that evening. Bloody hell! Grrrrrrrrrrr!
I decided to try turning the phone off and on again. Twice. On the second attempt, the Bluetooth stopped flashing. I considered tinkering with it, to see if I could now get it working again, but my priority was to have my phone working before I left for work at ten to eight the next morning. I know from bitter experience that on the one occasion I haven't got my phone with me, something bad will happen. (Last October; morning off work; Babe at nursery; me lolling in bath for first time since he was born; Other Half calls, screaming hysterically down the phone; Babe bitten by spider at nursery; ambulance has been called; I run down road in trousers-no-pants, shoes-no-socks, dressing-gown-no-bra and wet hair flapping in the wind.) (You're thinking this is made up, too, but I swear it's not. Babe was fine - when I arrived, the spider in question was in a plastic cup with cling film on top and the two ambulance men were looking at spiders on the Internet. I was about to expire...)
So, eventually, after a whole lot more fiddling, swearing, throwing the phone at the sofa (I held it together sufficiently to restrain myself from chucking it at the wall, but it was a close call) and raised eyebrows from Other Half (I don't often hold it together), it occurred to me that trying to call someone might re-activate the signal. It did. ‘Re-activate signal?’ the screen display asked. Unfortunately, ‘Yes, effing please’ was not an option available to select.
At least I have now learnt the hard way not to let Babe anywhere near my phone. It is small and not hard to put on a shelf he can't reach. The same can not be said for the oven. Which is why the timer has been set for a casserole that will be done to perfection some time in the year 2015.
Monday tomorrow... hooray!
1 comment:
Hoorah you should be proud. Bella has cost me many many dollars from continually flooding the inside of my phone with her spit. It took me about three rounds of repairs before decided to teach her phone off limits. Unfortunately our oven heats up from the outside... yes, Bella burned her finger :-( This is why people think I am irresponsible because I don't do play pens or gates.... but she will learn not to touch the oven again right? She's fine I felt awful but anyway, my point is I love this blog!
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