Forget-me-not

My first pair of Havaïanas. Purchased at the excellent travel accessory shop Nomaden in Oslo. Which, for years, was the only place (that I knew of, at least) where I could get these extremely versatile flip-flops. These sandals have been chosen as the first pair of shoes to move to France. Permanently. I do not have a shoe closet there. But I do not think I will have one either, as the humidity makes shelves a better solution. It will all be ruined without proper ventilation.

I really don't understand what is happening here. Because I have been known to be SO much in control it could sometimes be seen as a bit compulsive. I NEVER forget stuff, and especially not vital things like keys, phones and wallets. But this month I have managed an oval weekend in NY without my wallet, and now I am facing a weekend without my mobile phone. It hit me while getting my stuff ready for the security screening at the airport yesterday morning. No. No! NO! My phone was at home. On our kitchen counter. My umbilical cord - linking me to the rest of the world - is cut off. Temporarily, but still. Ouch. I can even recall looking at the phone on the kitchen counter and thinking "must not forget that one", while having breakfast. Great.

Of course, I could perhaps benefit from being "offline" for a few days. But NOT this particular weekend. We have no less than THREE huge furniture deliveries arriving today. And the new painter. We are, by the way on our third painter already, as the first one got another / bigger and more profitable job in Cap Ferrat, and the one we met on Monday decided he wanted to go on vacation and could not finish according to my deadlines. Seriously, I would have been able to paint those walls myself in a week. If I could be bothered to do it myself, I mean. And I gave the guy a whole MONTH!

Ok. So Mr. Incredible got a bit upset about the left-behind phone. And snapped at me. I snapped back. As I hate-hate-hate having it pointed out to me on the rare occasions (right!) that I have done something stupid. Because - I am already perfectly aware of that fact. There is no need to rub things in, is there?

Then, this elderly woman, someone I would normally have found truly adoring (pink Chanel tweed jacket, pearl stud earrings), exclaimed - with true despair in her voice: "Are you already starting to fight this early on on your trip?" I gave her my worst look, and a very brisk "YES." Before marching away. I did not really feel like explaining the situation to her. I felt more like hiding in the restroom crying. Which I didn't. I am a grown-up. But it is ok to want to do that even for an adult. Me thinks.

Well, I am not one to focus on problems, really. So, I soon had TWO contingency plans in place. My sister picked up the phone at our place so she could answer any incoming calls until I was finally able to get my mobile service provider to put an automatic forward on my calls to one of Mr. Incredible's THREE (!) mobile phones. Worked like a dream, when I could just manage to GET THROUGH to their "customer service".

Calling from abroad I do not appreciate being held up for minutes regarding some customer service survey. And then being informed that "the waiting time is estimated to...... TWENTY-SEVEN MINUTES". Seriously!

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