Panic at 0620

My phone rang at 6:20 this morning. It wasn't my work phone, and jolted out of a dead sleep, I recognized the ring-tone, being one of those vaguely lazy "I like to know who's calling before I bother getting up" (okay, totally lazy) folks that sets ring-tones for most of the frequent callers in her life. 

It wasn't someone who should usually be calling at that hour. (Is there anyone who *should* be calling at 6:20 on a Saturday morning? I think perhaps not.)

Of course, I instantly went into crisis mode, assuming the worst and trying to figure out how quickly I could get to Bloomington (because of course something must be wrong with Mom. It's not. She's fine. She's probably sleeping. It's early still.). 

I called back immediately, not waiting for the voicemail to come through, and got the on-the-other-line beep for what seemed like an eternity. 

At this point, I'm wide awake, irritated as hell, and heading toward panic, for real for real.

I sent a "what's wrong?" text.

I continued the compulsive redialing.

Finally, I get regular ringing. The owner of the cell phone picks up. I immediately demand "what's wrong?"

Um, yeah. Her bag called me of its own accord. I'm touched. I'm flattered. I'm *going back to bed.*

Ah, the miracle of modern technology -- making our lives easier. ;)