The story of the phone that was lost and now found, Part Three

I hope this is the last time you'll be hearing something like this from me, but here I go again: I lost my phone this morning. 

Faithful readers of this blog will recall that losing phones has been a regular phenomenon for me. I wrote all about them in my little space on the web. To refresh you:

— In 2006 a thief slashed my pocket while I was inside the UP-Philcoa jeep. My phone was lost forever.

— In 2010 my phone decided to jump out of my pocket while I was dozing off inside a Taft-Fairview FX. I got an email from a kind man who picked my phone from that vehicle. I learned that his name was Jonell,  then a graduating Mass Comm student from UP Diliman. We met up at Robinson's Mall. He's now working for a local newspaper in Panay.

— In February 2012 that same phone decided to go AWOL temporarily. My friend Glaiza picked it up and wrote me this note.

Today my phone slipped off my pockets while I was jogging at the South Cotabato Sports Complex. I was on my fifth consecutive round in the oval, sweating, panting, Counting Crow's Accidentally In Love playing in my earphones, when I felt something was missing. When I checked my left pocket, my phone wasn't there anymore.

"Lord, what lessons would you like to teach me now?" I prayed. 

I alternated between jogging and running while I was searching for my cheap Nokia. In my head I composed the email I would post to Yahoo groups, realizing my previous mistake of being casually indifferent at people who'd announce their selfsame loss for the public to know. 

I wasn't in desperation. I didn't pay much for my phone—for why should I, given my impressive history of gadget loss? What I wanted to avoid was the inconvenience of losing important text messages and contact details. 

After three more rounds in the oval, I reported the incident to the nearest guard house. I had to interrupt an engaging conversation among the staff. A kind lady handed me her mobile, "Tawagan mo." And I did. The man who answered my call had a peculiar accent. He told me he was no longer in the premises but if I'd come the bakeshop where he was having coffee, he'd be glad to give my Nokia back. I met him there. He was an engineer at the regional office of DPWH. He invited me to have coffee, but I declined. I really just wanted to take a cold shower.

How's that to welcome the month of June? We're already halfway through the year. Praise God!