I’m reading for tax when I look over and see Gertrude picking up my wallet. I shout at her to drop it. She scampers off.
Then I see:
I’ll see if my warranty covers this foolishness. If not, I may rock a fierce pair of Rottweiler gloves tomorrow ala Cruella de Vil.
Yesterday, I drove to school so I could go to the Walter Library.
I park the car in the uber-expensive parking garage and decide it’s time to febreeze my seats.1
I febreeze the car from the back seat and then get my bag. My cellphone fell out of my pants pocket while I was driving, so I scoop the phone from the front seat and leave the ramp.
I am halfway across the Washington Avenue bridge when I decide to check my text messages. I pull my cellphone out of my pocket and notice that it is wet.
When I open the phone, the keys are drenched and the screen is white. I think, Crap! I febreezed my phone to death!
So I walk back across campus and go to the Sprint store. The guy at the Sprint store asks if the phone is water damaged. I say, “Hm. It shouldn’t be!”
Sprintguy tells me to come back in about a half hour, so I go to the Target across the street.
Currently: