If there is any proof that, despite all evidence to the contrary, I am a Southerner it is the fact that I love the song Sweet Home Alabama. Like it was on the list for the DJ at my wedding love. The only time I don't love it? When it starts playing at six am every morning.
This story all starts with the disappearance of my mobile. One afternoon it was there, the next morning it was gone. Poof! Let me tell you it's been awesome since I had the girls because my husband can no longer blame such a disappearing act on my tendency to lose things. Because obviously the girls must have spirited it away to their secret twinsie hiding spot along with the tax form for my car and the number 4 puzzle piece that vanished into thin air in the space of thirty seconds.
So after sighing heavily, my husband helped me turn the entire house upside down looking for it but it never appeared. A normal person would have trotted themselves up to the AT&T store and gotten a new phone, maybe even a fancy smart phone. But I am cheap and stubborn. So I just did without for three weeks. With no land line this was an annoyance but hey who anyone who really wants to talk to me should get themselves on Twitter and DM me, right?
Finally Calamity Jane's speech therapist got so annoyed at not being able to reach me that she brought me her teen daughter's rejected phone. Besides the fun of reading through text messages like "GURL U R SO HOTT" and discovering that there are text chain letters ("Ur tru luv will die in a car crah if U dont snd dis 2 10 ppl" scary!), I was also thrilled to find dozens and dozens of songs downloaded as ringtones.
You see I am something of an idiot when it comes to technology. So I have been stuck with the factory rings which since I am lazy remains on the default. Which means I think my phone is ringing a lot when we're on public. Evidently there are a lot of lazy people out there.
You can imagine my glee when I found all those songs. Now I get to hear Sweet Home Alabama a few times a day and have a little dance party. Fortunately I am not too popular so I haven't looked like too big of an idiot in the preschool pickup line yet.
The only problem? It's playing every morning at six am. And my husband is ready to kill me. I keep meaning to turn it off, really. It's just that at six am I am too tired to do anything except scream and hide it in the couch. Then as the day goes on I forget all about it. Until the next morning when the sweet sounds of Skynard rouse me from slumber.
So what was this post about again?
Oh yeah, tweet me to turn that thing off before my husband kills me.
And at least I am not so technologically challenged that I can't talk about random stuff on the internet.