The Resurrection of Paris:

Again, I name everything. My cell phone's name . . .



Paris.

Paris, during a freak blizzard, noiselessly fell from my lap into a pile of snow at the parking lot of the local Wal-Mart Super Center. I was hastily hopping out of my truck to check if the "clicker" would work if my keys were still in the ignition - in the ignition because my shifter refused to go to 'P'.

Little stress. Little drama.

I managed. Which for once did not involve a dozen white chocolate macadamia nut cookies! Yes. I bought a new phone and swtiched the number.

3 days later I found Paris lying in a heap of melting snow/ice at said Wal-Mart. Better yet, he lived! At least until about 3 and then he kind of just stopped working. Weeping did not insue. I simply replaced him again.

The new phone's name is Paris X, but he looks and functions the same as Paris. The 'X' is merely aesthetic.

Luv,
Clay