Eh tu, one thinger?

Last week, I misplaced one of the handsets for our phone. It was the one from the bedroom, which I'm sure I grabbed quickly while making the bed/folding laundry/looking at naked pictures of Angelina Jolie, whatever. I grabbed and walked somewhere in the house and set it down. I could not find it any where.

I looked high and low. I looked all the usual places that the one thinger likes to hide things, but still no handset. This particular phone was set on quiet since it is for our bedroom so paging it was worthless.

Finally I gave up. I told the hubby it was time for a new phone group anyway, so why not investigate some of the finer models at our local Sam's Club bulk-till-you-puke extravaganza.

Friday, when I was chatting yet again while doing random tasks, I pulled open my panty drawer to find the perfect pair and low and behold, that fucking handset.

I have become a one thinger. I have no words for my shame...