[Fast forward to later that night... 10:30ish]
*Phone Rings*
Me: Hey girl what's up?
Lane: I lost my phone. I left it at y'alls house during Milk and Cookies tonight.
Me: Ok... well I was just leaving the Deeg... where did you leave it?
Lane: That's the thing...
Me: Oh no...
Lane: ...Yeah...
Me: Don't even say it.
Lane: I think I threw it in the garbage when I threw my trash away
Me: *DeepBreath* ...I'll call you if I find it....
You see a lot of things were running through my mind. Lane and I became best friends freshman year and have survived pretty much everything together since. Freshman whale stage. Lost keys. Lost phones. Lost ACT Cards. Lost shoes. (OKOKOK, so we pretty much lose everything!) Death of family dogs. Failed tests. You name it. We've done it. And most likely together. So when she called, I pretty much knew I'm going to have to find this phone because she'd do the same for me.
Next thought that went through my mind, ....all those garbage bags are full of spilt milk, ANNNNDDDD now yours truly gets the extreme pleasure of digging through them. (Why me?!) So, the search begins. I send up a prayer pleading with the Lord to let that dang phone be on loud, vibrate, and in the garbage cans still in the house. I pull out my phone, I hug each can, and I call Lane's phone while holding my breath desperately hoping to hear that sweet sound of a ring tone..... nothing. I hear absolutely nothing. I feel absolutely nothing. Shoulda figured... right?
Because my life is a sick joke and the Lord loves keeping me on my toes, I now have to move on to the dreaded, awful, smelly, wasteland (pun completely intended). I took a deep breath (probably my last one for a while). Put on my big girl panties. And moved outside to the *DUN*DUN*DUN* Delta Gamma Dumpster.
I fling open the big metal gate. Walk into the middle of the brick walls that house the dumpster and look into the wide opening. I just stare at the number of garbage bags in there. Really Lane?!?! Really? [InsertMentalPepTalkHere] I take a mental deep breath ('cause to take an actual one would mean searing all my nose hairs with the pungent dumpster smells thus causing me to smell that and only that for probably a week. Absolutely NOT!)
One by one I begin to remove each garbage bag. I untie it. Shake the bag to try and make the crud move around on its own in hopes of seeing the lost iPhone. I then hug the bag and call the phone. Each time with less and less hope that that DANG PHONE would ring...Because if that phone didn't ring, then I had to dig...with. my. own. glove. free. hands....into the bag.
Six bags in, the sun has set. It is just me, this nast trash and MY iPhone light. Mind you, I look like a homeless twenty year old digging though milk-soaked garbage in hopes of finding the needle in the haystack... except this needle comes in the form of a cracked iPhone 4 and the haystack is milk-soaked cookies, cartons, napkins, and whatever-else-one-thought-necesary-to-throw-in-the-garbage. As I am elbow deep in my seventh bag, Frank (our security guard) rounds the corner.
Frank: Honey, are you ok?
Me: [Takes head out of current garbage bag] ....Uhhhh.... yes? [Explains situation]
Frank: Well let me help
Me: OH MY GOSH THANK YOU YOU'RE MY HERO
1- Frank had an actual flashlight, and my phone was about to die.
2- Frank can reach into the dumpster WAYYYY easier than I could (Yes, I had to stand on a plastic crate. Yes, I fell off the crate while reaching in the dumpster. No, I don't want to talk about it.)
3- With Frank helping, I looked like I was on a mission instead of looking like a homeless 21 year old.
Just keep digging. Just keep digging. Just keep digging. That is until you run out of bags. Which we did. Here I am, covered in milk up to my elbows, stinkin' to high-heaven, and I HAVE NOTHING TO SHOW FOR IT.
Defeated, I call Lane and break the bad news. Next morning find out a maintenance man found it in a parking lot on a different part of campus. My life is a sick joke y'all.
ONE. BIG. SICK. JOKE.
#WifeMe
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